Crest of Your Aegis
by Cytrus
Summary: If Hinagiku feared reaching the top of the world, it was because it would mean being alone. She didn't care about the pits of hell awaiting her on the way. "Use me, then, use me as you please."
1. Ironwort

**Chapter 1**

**Ironwort**

xxx**  
**

"You will don that leash, Katsura, or remain a would-be leader forever. The choice to accept or decline our offer is yours. But remember, it will be us deciding whether to clip those dreams of yours."

The woman's mouth curved with every word, spitting out controlled bursts of poisonous hubris. In contrast, her eyes didn't move, trained on her prey and never letting go, akin to a falcon's talons. Before the sound of her voice could completely die out, she unfolded the holding fan in her hands and concealed her grinning lips.

"Media. Finances. Politics," from the other end of the table, a quiet voice picked up where its predecessor dropped off, not letting silence set in "Realize what we represent, young girl, and answer carefully."

Unlike the proud woman's eyes, this man's glare held no flame within it. Rather, it was filled with icy menace. The weak, silvery hair on his head was belied by his steady gaze.

Hinagiku turned her head to come face to face with him and accept the unspoken challenge, joining the stare down with genuine fervor.

"Katsura-san," the remaining participant of their meeting easily brought both of them down to earth "Will we hear your answer, or do you intend to keep us waiting indefinitely?"

The owner of the voice sat at the head of the table. She stood out from the other two as obviously younger, her delicate face testifying to the fact she couldn't be much older than twenty. In everything else, she was alike them. Her refined posture, indifferent tone and endless confidence all seemed to imply that she was more than she looked, as if there was something divine standing behind her and guiding her actions.

Hinagiku suppressed a smirk. Intimidated was not a word in her dictionary. If her opponents had celestial spirits watching over them, she'd just have to drag them down from their godly pedestals. Her cheeks flushed red and she resisted the urge to stand up then and there and start screaming at them. The competitor within her screamed for release, and yet…

"Yochiba-san, Kando-san," she nodded at the two in turn before concentrating on the younger girl in the middle "Syndicate Head," she made a small bow "My intentions are stated clearly in the documents I have provided you. What I ask of you, and the extent and limits of the price I am willing to pay," she paused for half a second "If there is anything not covered there that you expect of me, I will do my best to satisfy those demands."

She looked at the three figures before her, with their lavish traditional Japanese attires, with their smug grins and greedy looks, and felt she had never faced stronger greed and corruption.

With her heart filled with anger and revulsion, she lowered her head in a humble bow.

**X  
**

**XXX**

**X  
**

Hinagiku opened the door to the limousine waiting for her herself. She had experienced enough to fire those of her staff who insisted on relieving her of the too-simple tasks of everyday life.

She jumped inside the vehicle, slammed the door behind her shut and immediately let out a big sigh.

"Get us moving, Johan-kun."

"Yes, ma'am," her chauffeur responded briskly, peeking at the rear-view mirror to see her loosening her tie "That hard, was it, ma'am?"

"Mhmm," Hinagiku mumbled back and closed her eyes as the engine started "I want to break something right now."

"Please restrain yourself until I'm safely out of your reach, ma'am."

Hinagiku chuckled and opened one eye to send a playful glare at Johan's neck. The man pretended to shiver in fright.

They drove through the vast garden separating the estate from the city. Hinagiku indulged herself in looking at the sea of blooming flowers they traveled along.

"Take the rest of the day off, Johan-kun," she said distractedly, not moving her gaze away from the window" I don't know how long this will take, and I can just get somebody here to drive me back afterwards."

"Are you sure, ma'am?" Johan questioned, peeking at the mirror again "It's not even noon yet."

Hinagiku made a dismissive gesture.

"There's no point in you circling around here like a vulture for hours. I know you'll just go help out at that church. Make the most of your time, I say."

"Thank you, ma'am," Johan nodded gratefully "Please visit us at the church sometime. You don't have to take part in the mass itself."

"Thank you for the invitation," Hinagiku sighed "I might do that. Only once things like showing excessive support for minority religions are no longer enough to endanger my position, though."

They reached the gate and watched it open automatically in response. Hinagiku opened the door and stepped out of the limousine, flashing Johan a parting smile.

"If anyone asks, you dropped me off at the office, right?"

"Of course. Good luck, ma'am."

Hinagiku closed the door and watched the car leave the estate grounds. She turned around and went back into the flower garden, careful not to be seen.

**X  
**

**XXX**

**X  
**

Hinagiku swerved left, grasped desperately at the prized apple and saw herself faced with yet another wall. Another sharp turn, averting the crash, but the effort proved fruitless. She couldn't stop. All the paths were blocked. Any moment now and her body would…

She frowned dejectedly at the cell phone display flashing the words 'Game Over' at her face. What was wrong with that game? What was she supposed to do when the snake grew large enough to cover half the screen? It wasn't that her point score was bad (it was awe-inspiring), but a game there was no way for her to actually beat made her blood boil.

She smashed the exit button twice and was back to the main menu. A quick glance confirmed that no, nobody had called or sent her any messages in the time she spent on pursuing assorted fruit. Her insistence on not being bothered on this day was coming back to haunt her and she had already run out of ideas how to kill the time.

She pocketed the phone and put her arms behind her head, stretching on the bench she was sitting on. She looked up at the sky. Already, the sunlight was growing weaker. The air had lost its warmth. How many hours had she been waiting in the garden? And to think, that girl was still at it. As much as she was impressed, Hinagiku was also slightly envious.

"_She actually gets to do something, unlike me." _

In her distraction, she didn't hear the shuffling of feet.

"What's with the long face, Katsura-san?"

Hinagiku nearly jumped at the sudden question. But she recognized the voice soon after, and surprise gave way to embarrassment. She did her best to fight off the blush spreading on her cheeks and act nonchalant. It was her dignity at stake!

"A-accept my apologies if the expression on my face has discomfited you, Syndicate Head," she stuttered out.

The newcomer tilted her head to the side in surprise. For a moment, she seemed to puzzle over Hinagiku's reaction. Then realization struck and she giggled.

"I should be more cautious, lest my overwhelming presence gives somebody a heart attack. Isn't that right, Katsura-san?" she asked as an easy smile found it's way onto her face "Or would it be enough if I just called you Hinagiku instead?"

"That would be most welcome," the still-blushing Hinagiku replied, watching the unapologetic offender sit down next to her "Nagi-chan."

Nagi's smile widened, but she gave no response. For a few minutes, the chirping of birds was the only sound to be heard as the two enjoyed the shared tranquility of the garden. They hadn't been able to meet for a long time. Or maybe they hadn't wanted to meet. Not without the security provided by a formal setting and a crowd, at least. Because even now there were topics neither of them was sure they were ready for.

If this was supposed to work, though, they would have to grit their teeth and proceed.

"How did it go?" Hinagiku asked, and it surprised her that her voice didn't sound worried.

"It was frustrating. If I have to put on a snare for eight hours straight again anytime soon, I'll get wrinkles," Nagi shot straight off the bat, letting her voice show how tired she was "But it went well, actually. They just couldn't resist going through all the ways they could take advantage of you without being exposed," she moved her hand as if to wave the issue off "They had no objections to the contract, which is all that really matters."

Hinagiku listened to Nagi saying all this with imperturbable calm, and she wondered briefly whether this different, commanding Nagi had always been there, ready to bloom, or if she had been born that night five years ago.

"Mhmm. They don't sound like pleasant people, even in private."

"They aren't. They both had their hands in drug and weapons smuggling. And they each made one mistake too many."

Nagi kept facing straight ahead, absorbing the sight of the garden. Far away.

"They're like wounded animals. Desperate enough to bite at anything. Weak enough to be put down when the time is right," she turned her head to Hinagiku "That's why we're using them in the first place."

"I'm sorry for having you go so far," Hinagiku replied on reflex, not sure herself why she felt the need to apologize.

Nagi just shook her head and shrugged.

"It's nothing much. After what you've done for us in the past… Just remember they'll try to bite back when they realize what's going on, so I hope you're serious about that project of yours."

"I am," Hinagiku affirmed "Don't worry."

A light breeze swept over them. Nagi made a show of shivering in response.

"It's getting cold. I should go change into something warmer," she said as she stood up "Should I tell somebody to give you a drive?"

"Actually, I think I'll take a walk."

Nagi nodded once and turned her back to her friend. She took a few steps and stopped.

"You know, I had to make sacrifices to become Head of the Sanzenin. Great things always come at a price. It won't be easy for you, either."

Hinagiku kept her eyes on Nagi's back.

"Is this a challenge, Nagi-chan? You know I can't take one of those lying down. I'll have to work extra hard, now."

Nagi blinked in surprise. And then she smiled.

"I hope you will," she responded without turning back and started walking away.

Another gust of wind blew, drowning out her final words.

"Hayate would've wanted that."

xxx

* * *

**Ironwort** - n. (Bot.) An herb of the Mint family (Sideritis), supposed to heal sword cuts; wild, hardy flowering perennial that has adapted to survive with little water and little soil; thrives on rocky slopes and pastures at elevations over 3000 feet. Sideritis is derived from the Greek meaning 'made of iron'.

_The bigger they are, the harder they fall._

_But even as the thought came to her mind, Hinagiku prayed that one didn't apply to her._


	2. Lily of the Valley

xxx

"Do you swear?"

The pleasant warmth of that day seeped into the room through wide open windows. Rays of sunlight danced between polished surfaces and framed the flower vases scattered all around in a refreshing glow.

"_Come, come."_

The playful wind came to peek at them from outside.

"_Come, come," _it invited them to join it in its frolicking.

The assembled ignored it resolutely. All dressed in their best suits, lined up perfectly, with expressions like those chiseled in stone, they were in their own world, a world which deemed the wind's whispers of no significance.

Hinagiku stood among those people and wondered if she swore.

"…to represent to the best of your ability the will of the people. To take the wellbeing of the country as your first priority…"

It had been easier back when she was doing these things for the student council of Hakuou. That oath had been similar. The goals had been the same, save for the scale. But it had been easier. Back then, the ones repeating those words by her side were lovable idiots.

Now she had Tsuchimikado Kenji, a newspaper giant with a knack for subtle libel, breathing down her neck from just a few steps behind her and Nakamura Yuuki, three generations of the family currently in the Diet and fingers in every pie ever made, to her left at arm's length. Hinagiku was thankful for her place in the front row and relieved she knew little about the man on her right. Now that she could least afford it, she understood why ignorance could be bliss.

However, she held no delusions about her own image. Were she not elected by popularity vote, the party would have assigned her one of the block seats, as her now-colleagues had assured her. Nobody could be blind to this, not when she had appeared out of nowhere, having gained passive voting right less than half a year earlier. Then again, the point of this game was not how much one knew, but how much one didn't know.

"Do you swear?"

The air filled with a chorus of voices reciting the practiced response. Hinagiku's lips moved on their own, producing her own contribution to the waterfall of words. Did any of them consider that question seriously?

It wasn't that hard to drown out the whispers of the wind.

xxx

**Chapter 2**

**Lily of the Valley**

xxx

Murasaki Keiichi felt out of his depth. He tried reminding himself that where he was and what he was doing were two things he had decided for himself and worked hard to achieve. Nevertheless, the pangs of uneasiness continued to trouble him.

Now was one of those times. He took the oath with pride and confidence, but even as he did so, the back of his head was filled with thoughts of the people surrounding him. Faces he knew from TV and heard stories about surrounded him in every direction. He was looking at people and seeing legends.

His own career had begun in earnest only three years ago, and he had little to no connections to speak of. He knew there were some inconvenient truths shared in closed circles only. Those uninitiated, like him, could only base their opinions on gossip and whatever the official version was, both of which were usually little more than an exercise in creativity. Keiichi couldn't shake off the feeling that when he talked to people who should be his colleagues, he captured only a mirage, while they could see right through him.

Case in point, Tsuchimikado, standing to the left and one row behind him. Not that there was no information about the man, the amount of information was overwhelming. Keiichi thought it was as close as it came to totalitarian propaganda in a free and democratic country – every piece of news seemed to glorify the man. At first, he had wanted to believe these reports – Tsuchimikado and he were members of the same party, after all. However, that desire couldn't stand the test of time. When consequent articles implied the man in question had made admirable contributions to architecture, economy, agriculture, forestry and other assorted fields of knowledge with no apparent link between them, Keiichi grew suspicious. When one Sunday issue called the politician a 'fierce defender of the country's cultural heritage', his suspicions turned into certainty. If there was one thing Keiichi couldn't be led astray about, it was his own profession. He remembered quite well how each politician justified the subsidy cut which ultimately killed his museum. For all sound reasons Tsuchimikado had provided to explain the 'sad necessity', the man didn't seem overly concerned about cultural heritage.

A person with a hundred faces, not a single one of them real; that's what Keiichi saw in a politician whose ideas were supposed to be similar to his own. Back in his days as a curator, if Tsuchimikado had been one of the exhibits in his museum, Keiichi would have labeled him 'Shapeshifter'.

If members of his own camp could trouble him so much, though, what could he say about those who actually held opposing ideals?

As the assembled politicians fell silent again, Keiichi glanced to his left. He had ended up standing right next to the youngest member of the Diet. Katsura Hinagiku, he mused, probably didn't know his face. Not that he would have recognized the enigmatic beauty if he hadn't done research on her. But there had been reasons for his interest in her in the first place.

The girl had run a fairly standard election campaign. It seemed she held enough favor with the higher-ops of her party to receive proper funding, and she did not shirk public meetings and debates. Most of her political convictions didn't stray far from her party's official stance on the issues. She had made some bold statements about the criminal justice system and the need to strengthen the country's ability to interfere with individuals and companies. Keiichi considered most of those ideas dangerous, and they weren't exactly popular with the people. Apparently, Katsura's opposition in the region had failed to take advantage of that to oust her from the competition, though.

There were few records of Katsura's previous activities. She had majored in Law and Political Science at a renowned private university, but seemingly didn't make much of a splash there. Keiichi had found mentions of her being student council president in her high school days. The high school had a reputation for only accepting upper class people in, but Keiichi was disappointed to find out that while the Katsuras might have been well-off, they were not notably so.

All of this worried him. Why? This girl, who seemed not to be much different from Keiichi himself, why was her name repeated in whispers by men who could make this country shake on a whim? Why did it enter conversations regarding economy, national security and foreign policy? Why did the elites all know her, when she didn't exist in the minds of everyone else?

No matter how hard he tried, his eyes couldn't see through the girl and to whoever was beneath that practiced calm. He wanted to know how she achieved what he couldn't, but observing her only fed his uneasiness. He couldn't help noticing that her expression at this time, certainly the most important moment in her life, was completely unconcerned. Even her eyes seemed uninterested, already gazing at something beyond the present, something greater than here and now.

Just then, when he was becoming lost in his musings, the girl turned her head to his side, unnoticed by anyone else, and gave him a dazzling smile.

For the first time in years, Keiichi couldn't find the words to label what he saw.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

They left the room in a half-orderly queue. The slight disorder was all thanks to overeager journalists unwilling to let some of the more popular politicians go without getting something of a scoop. For those short few minutes, Keiichi was actually glad of his lack of notoriety.

Thankfully, a few guards were standing dutifully at the door, allowing party members entrance into the hall beyond and turning away everyone else. Keiichi bowed his head at the men in appreciation, but only got wry smiles in response. _You'll get used to it,_ they seemed to say.

Finally, he left the crowded passage behind him and stepped into the hall. The feeling of inexplicable camaraderie with tinned sardines instantly disappeared as people spread out in all directions. The hall was vast, good enough for a dance ball. However, today the floor was littered with tables offering refreshments, and no music was planned. To tell the truth, there was no official party planned at all. Keiichi could see a few people already moving slowly towards the exit on the other side. After all, the parties themselves had each undoubtedly prepared their own celebrative events. Most would find those more important than sticking around for gossip. This was supposed to be a chance for representatives of different factions to speak on friendly terms before they split up and began making each other's life hard in the Diet. But in the end, it was nothing but an opportunity for the organizers to show off their professionalism and hospitality. And Keiichi wasn't even sure who exactly was responsible for the setup.

"Hey, Murasaki!"

Keiichi paused in his musings at the sound of someone calling him loudly and without an honorific. A quick glance confirmed it was not somebody justified in such familiarity.

"...Nakamura-san?" Keiichi wagered a guess at the man's name. They had talked briefly and exchanged business cards a fortnight earlier, as far as he could remember "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

Nakamura shook his head, either to dismiss the need for such pleasantries or to deny it was a pleasure at all, Keiichi was honestly unsure which.

"You were standing next to that wench too, weren't you?"

Keiichi visibly blanched at Nakamura's use of profanity coupled with an indiscreetly loud voice. Unfortunately for him, his surprise gave Nakamura the chance to go on.

"Tough luck, no? Katsura's filth could have infected us."

Keiichi felt his face freeze in a grimace of embarrassment. He could almost feel the looks directed at them crawling all over his flesh. His tongue was still stupefied, but his eyes did their best to make up for it, darting left and right in a panicked search for a certain girl's characteristically colored hair. Was she somewhere around, listening?

Keiichi's soul left his body when he felt a hand land on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Nakamura," the owner of the hand interrupted firmly "We're meeting up with our friends in five minutes. You'll have to find some other time to talk" the man turned away from Nakamura and faced Keiichi "Isn't that right?"

"Right."

Keiichi was the one most surprised with his own immediate answer. Whether it was simple survival instinct or some deeper message he had read from the firm grip of the hand now dragging him away, he had jumped at the chance to get as far away from the uncomfortable conversation as possible.

But that unexpected decision was a small thing, all things considered. What Keiichi really wanted to know was who his savior was. The man looked to be older than sixty, which would make him some twenty years Keiichi's senior, and a complete stranger.

"All of us were beginners at some point," the man spoke amiably, looking Keiichi straight in the eye "I don't want to tell you how you're supposed to do your job, so I'll just give you one piece of advice. Don't let yourself be dragged into a war for any ideals but your own. You've got a reason for making it this far, right?" he lowered his head to look at his watch "Well, I do have that meeting so I better get going. Best of luck!"

Keiichi never got to articulate a proper response. Seconds later, he saw the man's back disappear behind the exit door. In a delayed reaction, his mind registered the fact that just as he didn't recognize the gentleman, the older politician had never addressed him by his name. What was all that anyway? Keiichi felt as if he had unknowingly undergone the rite of passage of some secret society.

Struggling with his jumbled thoughts, he approached one of the refreshment tables and pretended to be deciding between two different cakes laid out on silver plates. No matter how much he turned it over in his mind, though, he couldn't make head or tails of the situation he had just been in.

"The strawberry one is delicious, I hear," a helpful voice chimed in from the side.

It barely broke through the mist of confusion in Keiichi's mind, but he still greeted it with an absent-minded nod of appreciation. And as he did, he suddenly grew alarmed. His breath left him for the second time that day. His head snapped to the side and he came face to face with Katsura Hinagiku.

Keiichi watched the girl's flower-like smile and felt as if meeting the reaper. So she had indeed overheard and misunderstood? After all he had heard about her rage, he wondered if she would gouge his guts out here and now, or invite him for a talk outside first?

"Actually, Murasaki-san, I've been waiting for a certain person… " Hinagiku began in an eerie tone "Would you mind keeping me company for a few minutes?"

Keiichi gulped soundlessly. Here and now, then.

"It seems it's our first time meeting each other," the girl continued without losing the delighted expression on her face "My name is Katsura Hinagiku. Pleased to meet you."

She bowed easily and handed him her business card, which he accepted mechanically.

"Yes, uh… Murasaki Keiichi. Pleased to meet you."

He fished out his own business card and offered it to Hinagiku. It was obviously redundant, as she had just used his name, but she wordlessly accepted and pocketed it.

"It's a nice place, isn't it?" Hinagiku asked looking around the room "The halls feel like they have stories to tell, but the atmosphere isn't quite as bad as in some very old buildings."

Keiichi had expected her to bring up his half-conversation with Nakamura as soon as they were done with introductions, but now a beacon of hope appeared in his mind – maybe she hadn't overheard them, after all, and approached him out of coincidence. He wished for it to be the case.

"The Diet Building is almost ninety years old, even if it doesn't look like it," he answered automatically "It was quite modern for its times."

At that moment Hinagiku caught his eyes and, as if by magic, her sharp gaze poured into him a feeling of unadulterated terror known best to children caught red-handed in the act of stealing cookies. Feeling he had said something wrong, Keiichi searched desperately for something he could say to fix his mistake.

"The first designs had already been prepared back in 1880, but in the end those plans had to be dropped. The design that actually saw use came from a later contest with more than a hundred different applications."

"Is that so?" Hinagiku asked, and for a moment her gaze left Keiichi and seemed to trail after one of the other guests „You seem very knowledgeable on the subject."

Keiichi breathed in and out, taking advantage of the momentary relief.

"Ah, there is no need for flattery. After all, I've been a devout historian until just recently..." in that instant, the pressure of Hinagiku's eyes was back, as strong as ever and pushing him to elaborate "I'm interested in amending some disadvantageous regulations concerning national heritage. One of the things that made me aim for a seat in the Diet was my museum being closed down..."

What was with the absurd strength behind that girl's gaze? She seemed to swing it around like some sort of lethal weapon. Keiichi scolded himself for losing his composure so easily; this was a mere lass, and over a decade younger!

But in that moment the female in question seemed to notice the discomfort she was imposing upon him and let out something of an apologetic laugh. She didn't openly call it as such or make any other reconciliatory gestures, but the next time she blinked the abnormal pressure was gone.

"Cultural institutions like museums are not enjoying their best moments right now, are they? Everyone is preoccupied with the economic downward spiral and looking for a sacrificial lamb to help patch up the financial gaps. What could be better for this purpose than institutions that do not bring direct profit and therefore have few wealthy supporters?"

Keiichi studied her in silent surprise. While she had used general terms, she had more or less summarized his observations on the topic. Of course, and he made a mental grimace at the thought, she wasn't one of those qualified to complain about the situation...

"And obviously enough, my party is focused on the market situation enough to overlook any amount of damage it does to everything else."

This time, Keiichi had to blink before reassuring himself he had heard her right. She had just freely admitted to her faction's destructive influence on culture. Was this honesty or just self-assured flippancy?

"While admitting that greatly saddens me," Keiichi set the question of Hinagiku's intentions aside for the time being "I also cannot say that preserving our history is my colleagues' top priority. At present, the only thing one can hope to accomplish is to minimize the losses and wait for better times..."

"Was it any better before, then?" Hinagiku prodded.

"It's not that any recent bills worsened the situation," Keiichi ventured "It's more that no effort is being made for them to adapt to the new circumstances."

"Local authorities, then."

Keiichi nodded.

"The number of questionable decisions at that level recently has been so large that it would hardly be enough to explain it with mere carelessness or complacency. I cannot help suspecting that some harmful pressure is being exerted upon the decision-making bodies. But I couldn't find any clues supporting this theory back when I was a curator with no political influence. I still have no idea who could benefit from this... it might all be my imagination."

Instead of answering, Hinagiku directed her gaze at the floor and began drilling holes straight down to the basement. Her prolonged silence gave Keiichi the time to realize he had confided more than he had intended in who was essentially a stranger. But the serious and contemplative expression she now wore convinced him she wasn't taking his words lightly. Keiichi was actually glad to have someone from his new circles hear him out.

Hinagiku's look grew steadily dimmer, as if she was seeing something horrible with increasing clarity. But before Keiichi could guess what was in her heart, her head snapped up and, looking off into space, she delivered her one word response.

"Trophies."

Keiichi hesitated, unsure how he should react.

"Excuse me?"

Almost imperceptibly, Hinagiku nodded as though strengthening some resolution.

"Someone is forcefully trying to close down as many museums as possible," Hinagiku paused to give Keiichi time to contradict her, and took his silence for approval when he didn't answer "In that case, what happens to the exhibits?"

Keiichi's eyes narrowed as he tried to discern what she was getting at.

"Well, most are transferred to other nearby museums, part of them are placed in temporary storage rooms, some may be sold for private collections..."

It clicked. Once the last few words left his mouth, he understood what Hinagiku meant by trophies.

"It's not like just anyone can get their hands on valuable exhibits this way," Keiichi hurried to protest "Such deals are only undertaken with trustworthy art collectors, often people who lent their own collections to the museums at some point!"

He was trying to explain the process, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach merely intensified. Hinagiku immediately confirmed his fears.

"Wealthy, influential people. People who, by whatever means, had already procured large collections of antics."

_The perfect culprits._

It was left unsaid, that obvious, natural conclusion.

Keiichi swore inwardly. His fists clenched. Why hadn't he noticed before? Why hadn't he seen the enemies shamelessly picking apart what he held dear? Anger boiled within him, the anger of months of frustration and powerlessness suddenly granted a target. It threatened to strip him of his self-control and, for a moment, his body shook.

He met Hinagiku's eyes. That deep, unforgiving gaze was back, trained straight at him, but it no longer made him uneasy. Now he understood its significance.

"We hold conflicting ideals, Murasaki-san, and we are sure to clash in the future," Hinagiku spoke in a low tone "But there are things neither of us can forgive, there are men and women whom we both need to expose and see crawling in the dirt. Support me when the time to strike comes and I swear I will hold nothing back to have them pay."

There was no need for Keiichi to respond verbally.

"Then, Murasaki-san," Hinagiku said with a parting bow "When the time is right, let us meet on the battlefield."

Keiichi returned her bow and watched her retreating back. That was it. She had made him remember his reason for reaching this place, the passion to fight back against invisible, impregnable foes. He was not here to slowly drown in the depths of trade-offs and political correctness, as had had already began to do under pressure from his colleagues.

He moved a portion of the strawberry shortcake recommended to him earlier to a plate and assaulted it with a dessert fork. It tasted exquisite.

When Hinagiku's peculiar hair next flashed in his sight, she was standing at the other end of the room, talking to some older gentleman. Was that the person she had been waiting for? She was nodding her head, bowing politely and that familiar movement... yes, she fished out her business card. A first encounter, then. So maybe that wasn't the person she had been waiting for, but another conversation partner to help her kill the time.

"_Actually, Murasaki-san, I've been waiting for a certain person… "_

What was it with the eerie tone she used when she said that? Who could Katsura Hinagiku be waiting for? As much as he thought that a bridge of understanding had been created between them during their short exchange, he still didn't know her enough to be able to tell. The only things he knew...

_...another conversation partner..._

_...name spoken in whispers..._

_...would you mind keeping me company?..._

_...dangerous ideas..._

_...there are things neither of us can forgive..._

_...seemed not much different from him..._

_"Then, Murasaki san, when the time is right, let us meet on the battlefield."_

The plate and fork he had been holding descended onto the table with an undignified clatter. His eyes bore into her face; the distance between them was large but he was certain that smile was still there. His mouth formed an uncertain, twitching grin of its own. _Would there really be somebody who could make you of all people wait for them, Katsura-san?_

He fumbled in his pocket for a pen and the business card Hinagiku had given him earlier. He twisted the pen in his fingers once, and then set it to paper. He hesitated, spun the pen once more, set it to paper once more. And finally, he labeled the card with a written description of one word only.

_Monster_

xxx

* * *

**Lily of the Valley **– n. (Bot.)a popular garden plant, grown for its scented flowers and for its ground covering abilities in shady locations; some consider it a weed, as it can spread over a wide area in gardens and can be difficult to contain or remove; according to one legend, Lilies of the Valley sprang from the blood of Saint Leonard of Noblac during his battles with a dragon; all parts of the Lily of the Valley are highly poisonous.

**AN:** Sorry for the delay in posting this, but I've just finished a period when I worked for up to seventeen hours a day for several consecutive days, obviously leaving me with no time or strength to do anything else. Also, I'll be working on a few Umineko shorts parallel to the next installment of this story, so tell me which one you'd like to see more when you leave a comment.

On a side note, everything regarding the Japanese Diet (i.e. separate candidate and block votes, age for passive voting right, facts about the Japanese Diet building etc.) works as it does in contemporary Japan, except for the factions present and the distribution of power, which does not. The Hayate world has insane families which could fund a world war on their own, which are hopefully not present in real life.

The most common question in reader's reviews so far was about Hayate's current state. I suppose this chapter... didn't answer it (or did it?). Don't give up, though. Persistence is the key to success! Probably.

* * *

_Hinagiku stretched her arms out clumsily, her frame tottering at the edge of the sofa._

_"I looove you..."_

_She who dares, wins... and all that. _


	3. Companion Flower

**AN:** Delays, delays, but this project is still growing, don't worry (I know you don't, either way :P). I now have a few fics going on at the same time, so you can vote in the poll at my profile if you think something should get priority. Or, even better, leave a comment.

As always, have fun reading.

~ Cytrus

* * *

xxx

Hinagiku hopped out of the car with the relief of a convict having escaped prison. The windy night took her in its grasp, pushing her coat against her skin and hiding her features in shadows. Hinagiku breathed in the scent of the air with pleasure. She held onto her hat with one hand, resting her thumb on the ponytail she had slipped behind her collar.

She leaned forward and knocked on the car window to get the driver's attention. She pointed to herself and winked, wordlessly asking if she looked fine. From the front seat, Johan gave her a slow nod of approval. It meant '_I wouldn't recognize you if I wasn't the one who drove you here_'.

A spark of mischief appeared in Hinagiku's tired green eyes, the color a courtesy of contact lenses. She waved Johan off and walked away. The car engine started. Johan didn't inquire what she was up to, late in the night and concealing her identity. It wasn't the first time, and anyway, she obviously didn't want him questioning her about this. He could at least tell when it was better for him not to ask.

As the car's taillights disappeared in the distance, the only illumination left was that of the dim lamplights along the road. The moon had disappeared completely behind a blanket of clouds.

The narrow road she walked down wasn't exactly foreboding – it was clean and appropriately silent for the late hour. Still, it also had to it the inaccessibility of an independent district. The closed shop windows told Hinagiku to turn back and return where she came from. Cats shuffled around in their alleys as she passed.

Hinagiku didn't mind the atmosphere. It wasn't like she was still the vulnerable little girl from over fifteen years ago who would wander into such places only if she had to rescue that troublesome person. Now, she was doing this willfully, for her own satisfaction.

Hinagiku turned another corner and looked up at a tacky, flashing neon sign reading "Savannah". A run-of-the-mill imitation of an overseas bar. The type to keep afloat only thanks to a group of local die-hard regulars. Hinagiku smiled. Of course, no matter how reliable her intuition was, she couldn't tell that for sure just from a single glance. As far as she could remember, it would be her first time in that particular dump, after all.

The thoughts of the two dozen handshakes she had exchanged that day finally disappeared from her mind, replaced with a kind of childish anticipation. She made a beeline for the neon sign and opened the door beneath it.

xxx

**Chapter 3**

**Companion Flower**

xxx

Her gaze swept over the assorted bottles of liquor on the shelf at a leisurely pace. The boiling point was near, she knew, all the quick glances, pointing fingers and the pervasive silence that claimed the bar. She relished the feeling of holding a ticking time bomb in her hands.

Her entrance alone had been enough to disturb the status quo. Everybody visiting the place at this hour knew each other; they had their reserved seats and their "as always" shots at the bar. But now a frail woman had entered their domain, a creature from a different world intruding upon their well-established dream.

That would have probably only upset them slightly if she just made her order, sat down in a corner and kept quiet enough. Hinagiku realized that, so she made sure to stand wordlessly a few meters away from the counter, where she would get in the way of anyone trying to move to or away from the tables. The first objective, getting attention, was never too hard.

Hinagiku valued challenges, though, and so she delighted more in the second task – setting things ablaze. Western tea with honey or warm milk? Hinagiku pondered her order. They wouldn't have the first one, which was always a good way to start things off. The latter was a semi-common ingredient in drinks, but it was all too easy to call it spoilt and demand a refund. Either one would cause outrage in those awaiting her next move.

A quick evaluation of the barkeeper helped her make up her mind. He was probably professional enough, but seemed to have worked one night shift too many. There were rings under his eyes and his movement betrayed his growing impatience. It was a powder keg waiting to blow up, and Hinagiku could already see herself lighting the fuse. She caught the barkeeper's eyes and opened her mouth to speak.

"The lass 'ill have a bottle of Devil's Tango, Takeshi," a slurry voice interrupted her before she could actually say anything. Both Hinagiku and the barkeeper turned to glare at the man who had approached them.

"Keep out of this, _Isogai-san_" the barkeeper called Takeshi replied, stressing the honorific, as if to remind the other to keep proper distance "I don't want trouble here tonight."

Hinagiku intended to follow that up with her own vituperation. The other customers must have sensed what was coming, seeing the wild fire in her eyes. Some started getting up from their seats, others drew further back. They prepared for the explosion.

It never came. Changing her mind at the last moment, Hinagiku turned to Takashi, pointed at the grinning Isogai and nodded firmly. Taking the cue, Takashi stepped back to the shelf to reach for the designated bottle.

He hesitated once before placing it on the counter. "Is that troublemaker of a man your acquaintance, madam?"

In the second he had looked away, the fiery aura Hinagiku had radiated disappeared. The only thing coming from her now was cold disinterest. Takeshi realized he had no chance for an answer. He accepted the banknote she offered him and slid a glass in her direction. She didn't seem to want to wait for her change either, which was just fine with him.

They made for a peculiar pair, Hinagiku and Isogai. He led her to his table, all the while gesturing invitingly. Their eyes were at the same level, but Isogai was likely a head taller than her. What made up for the difference in height were their postures, Hinagiku with her back straight and the older man always moving in a hunched position. Hinagiku's bright hair, pristine clothes and confident steps gave her an aura of power. Isogai was her opposite in every way, all aspects of his appearance proving he had seen better days. They were like oil and water, an incongruous combination of jigsaw pieces from two different puzzles.

And yet, mysteriously, nobody here seemed to mind it. The moment the newcomer girl joined Isogai, she had ceased to be of interest to the men sitting at the tables. It was as if the old drunkard was so much a part of the pub's landscape he could obscure anything near him.

"So, Isogai-san," Hinagiku spoke as they sat down in a shadowy corner of the pub, apparently Isogai's table of choice "it doesn't seem like you approached me purely by coincidence."

The old man looked up at her with dark, uncomprehending eyes. He wasn't used to actual conversation, Hinagiku noted. He moved his dirty glass left and right on the wooden surface of the table, producing a grating sound.

If he wanted to look pitiable, he probably succeeded. If he thought it would in any way affect Hinagiku, he was sorely mistaken. She merely steeled her gaze further and mockingly traced a path down the bottle's neck with her finger.

"What was it, Isogai-san?"

The man deflated in defeat. His grip on the glass faltered and he pulled back his hand to hide it under the table. His eyes made wild trips between Hinagiku's face and his lap, surrendering sooner with each attempt to face Hinagiku's glare head on.

"Ah... ah," Isogai's head bobbed up and down in what could be anything from an apology to a gesture meant for self-reassurement "But it was long ago. Miss wouldn't remember..."

Convinced the man would talk now, Hinagiku opened the bottle with a few swift movements and poured each of them a glass of the amber-colored liquid. She wasn't planning on drinking, she shared the unfortunate affliction of zero alcohol resistance with some of her compatriots. But maintaining appearances would put the other side at ease.

Isogai pulled the glass towards his chest like one might cradle a child. The glass container held no more than a few gulps of the liquid, he could cover it completely with his large hands, and yet it seemed he, his entire being, would drown in the glistening depths. He downed the contents in one go and broke the disturbing illusion. He placed the empty glass within Hinagiku's reach. What was he supposed to say? With his head bowed, he directed his words at the table.

"It's a faint memory an' all. Must've been back when the place was called 'Sweet River' or something..." Isogai hesitated "Or was it it 'Sweet Dream'?"

Hinagiku lifted her glass and tilted it from side to side to amuse herself. Light reflected from the beverage in odd ways. Hinagiku wasn't interested in what the place was called half a century ago. She had hoped the bizarre drunkard who approached her so daringly would have something more interesting to say.

"It was tough, yes. Of course you know, miss, so I don't need to tell you. But you young ones have the power to cope with everything they throw at you..."

Disappointed with where she thought this was going, Hinagiku let out a silent sigh and prepared to stand up and leave.

"Like that girl, you know. Saw your eyes and it seemed like it was yesterday, all the crazy things Yukiji-chan would do."

Hinagiku's blood ran cold. She ordered herself not to react but her neutral expression faltered like paper wilting in the rain. Her muscles tensed; her grip on the the glass tightened. It was as if she had hit the brakes and heard them snap.

She couldn't let Isogai see her surprise. She raised the glass to her mouth and tipped it over. The burning taste of liquor exploded in her throat imperceptibly before an image assaulted her mind. Her childhood self, eyes full of tears, barging into a smoky joint too much alike this one and fighting to drag her sister back with her.

"She was a good girl, I remember. Luck didn't like sticking to her, though. Younger than you and had some nasty debt hanging over her head already. Did some good singing here, for whatever beer money that got her."

Hinagiku poured Isogai another glass just to shut him up for a few seconds. She refilled her own without thinking. It didn't buy her enough time to organize her thoughts.

"Your eyes, I tell you, miss. She had that determined look of yours."

The world, this home of inexcusable coincidences, blasted old men and intoxicating tipples, danced crazily before Hinagiku. Her sister's eyes? She could barely remember what they had looked like before...

She pounded the table with her free fist and the resulting pang of pain accompanied her last coherent thought.

_Damn it._

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Ayumu leaned forward and appraised her reflection in the mirror. Her toes left ground and for a moment she balanced herself on her heels. She whirled to the side and inspected her profile. Her hands patted her backside and swept imaginary dust off her favorite pair of jeans. Nodding in satisfaction, she returned her feet to the floor with a silent tap.

Her line of work didn't mix well with any degree of extravagance, but she found that quite convenient. Her strength lay in a modest charm – a natural smile and only enough make-up to make them wonder if it was there at all. She remained elegant not to compete with others, but to boost the morale of her staff.

Her radio turned on automatically as its internal clock struck three. The melody of some once-popular tune filled the small flat. It was soft enough it probably wouldn't disturb her neighbors, but Ayumu went to switch it off anyway. It was her last resort in case she overslept. She hadn't had to depend on it for months now, a small achievement she took pride in.

She swept the curtain in the room aside to take a quick peek at the streets and saw what she had expected – it was nice and as dark as it tended to be at this time of night. "A cooler night than usual," the weather forecast had said.

Ayumu threw on a jacket and reached for her handbag. She started putting on her shoes as she fished around for her keys.

The doorbell rang unexpectedly. Ayumu impulsively stopped groping around in her bag to open the door. Her hand froze before it could reach the handle.

It struck her that it didn't make much sense for her to get an unannounced visitor at this hour. Her hand plunged back into her handbag to grab a can of pepper-spray she carried around. Finding it came much easier than finding the elusive keys. She had never expected to use the can; the neighborhood was particularly calm. But if it came to that, she wouldn't hesitate. Maybe.

She peered into the peephole, hoping to see one of her colleagues out for mischief or even a neighbor angry with her for making noise. The only thing to meet her eyes was deep, inscrutable darkness. She forced back a nervous gulp. Whoever had deigned to visit her had decided to climb the stairs in the dark rather than to reveal their identity. This was no prank pizza delivery.

Ayumu weighed her options. She would have to leave for work sooner or later. With the darkness obscuring the corridor, it would be impossible for her to tell whether whoever had ringed the bell had already left or not regardless of how long she waited. She couldn't stay holed up here the whole night because of what could have been an innocent mistake. The police wouldn't be impressed if she called for help, either. "Mr. Policeman, there's a ghost ringing my doorbell at night!" Yeah, right.

Coming to a decision, Ayumu pressed herself against the door. She could hear no sound coming from the other side. Her grip on the can of pepper spray tightened and her free hand rested on the lock. The last moment of indecision lasted an eternity. Ayumu forgot how to breathe. She unlocked the door.

The audible click of the lock mechanism tore into the pure silence of the night mercilessly. And when that sound died out, the following quiet seemed even deeper and more profound. Ayumu listened to the sound of her heart thumping wildly in her chest. One beat. Two beats. Not a single other sound.

The part of her that expected the door to be pushed open the moment she unlocked it gave an internal sigh of relief. Not a burglar, nothing of the sort, she assured herself. She tried her best to force her panicked expression into something of a neutral smile and was half-successful. A short breath later she found the strength to press the handle.

She immediately sensed something was wrong. The door swung open without her pulling it, some unknown force pushing from the other side. She leapt back. The reflexive move upset her balance and she instinctively abandoned her grip on the pepper spray to support herself against the wall. In that instant, a falling body emerged from behind the door.

Ayumu's mouth shot open, ready to release a scream. But no sound came, except for the quiet thump as the body crumpled to the floor of her apartment. There was no air in Ayumu's lungs, as if the unmoving corpse, whatever it was, had sucked it all out.

Both of them remained frozen, one sprayed limply on the floor and the other glued to the wall, frame stiff like an iron bar.

If Ayumu's body was perfectly motionless, though, her eyes trembled minutely, moving all over the mysterious cadaver before her. She desperately took in details that could be clues: the large, heavy coat and the single exposed hand, to small to fit it, the western-styled hat concealing the person's face and the single strand of hair that escaped from underneath it... And at that moment, the world rejected the spell of stillness cast upon it – Nishizawa Ayumu blinked.

In the next instant, she was closing the door with one hand, using the other to unceremoniously drag the limp body out of the way by the collar of the coat. She had half-leapt over it to reach the door without a care of stepping on it, and now she dragged it like a sack of rice towards the living room, no trace left of her previous trepidation. Her lips now formed a thin line, the expression she would take on during the possibly dangerous parts of her job – exactly as much respect as the task required: no less, but not more, either.

It took most of her strength to lift the limp weight and lower the presumed corpse onto the sofa, but she went about it without the awkwardness one would expect to be apparent in such unusual actions. Ayumu's movements even seemed practiced, to an extent.

She stepped back and rested on one of the chairs opposite the sofa. She cast a long, dejected look at her comatose visitor. There was a glass table between them, a small thing thing to put drinks on while talking. The sofa was pale in color, unobtrusive and comfortable. Everything in the simple style she liked. Ayumu felt her disbelief steadily growing as she watched her modest little haven marred by the cold war era spy movie caricature now resting in its heart.

_Where have I gone wrong? _

With a defeated sigh, she rose from the chair and wandered into the kitchen. She opened one of the cabinets and took out a plastic box of assorted drugs. The one she was looking for was something she had never taken herself. She fished out a packet of tablets and reached for an empty glass. She twisted the water knob and watched as the glass slowly filled with water.

When she came back into the living room, Ayumu noticed that her guest had, almost imperceptibly, moved. It was the first sign that it wasn't a dead body she had dragged into her house. It was something of a relief. Now she could do the rough waking up with a light heart.

She leaned over her unresponsive friend and slapped her on the cheek.

"Earth to Hina! Time to wake up!"

Hinagiku's eyelids immediately fluttered open. And then they closed just as fast when met with the bright light coming from the lamps above. Ayumu managed to notice that one, and only one, of her friend's eyes had gone from its natural golden color to a light green, meaning that Hinagiku had somehow managed to lose one of her contact lenses on the way there.

Even completely drunk, Hinagiku could be surprisingly capable. She never failed to drag herself up to Ayumu's doorstep from whatever shady place she visited on that particular night. And she avoided getting into trouble along the way, too. Granted, tonight seemed like an exceptionally bad case: Hinagiku hadn't even remained conscious for the customary greetings and gave Ayumu the scare of her life. But Ayumu believed nothing could keep the other girl down for long.

What was reason for concern, on the other hand, was the hangover that was sure to follow. Unless treated in advance, Hinagiku's headaches tended to be very severe. This was the main reason why Ayumu had a stock of hangover medicine in her flat.

"Come, Hina," she pushed one of the tablets against Hinagiku's lips "Be a good girl."

Hinagiku obediently opened her mouth and tilted her head backwards when Ayumu gave her some water from the glass. She had no trouble swallowing. She still kept her eyes closed and only made the slightest movements, as if she had lost the remote controller to her body and was only operating on emergency mode. But she managed to unconsciously follow the drill, obeying Ayumu's instructions.

Ayumu returned the glass to the table and placed Hinagiku's hat next to it. The oversized piece of headwear resembled a massive raven ready to drink at a threw the image out of her head and moved to the next item on her list of priorities – saving her furniture from whatever dirt Hinagiku brought along with her. She got to untying the boot on Hinagiku's limp right foot. Hinagiku's choice of casual footwear never ceased to amaze Ayumu, what she had on right now was more suited for a mountain trek than a stroll around the block. Not only were the neatly paved roads nothing of a challenge, the recent sunny weather guaranteed there was no mud or puddles to step in on the streets. Ayumu was thankful for the trouble that saved her as she she placed the shoe she had taken off to her side. When she reached out to start work on the other shoe, her hand stopped before finding its target. The other shoe was apparently still drinking beer somewhere together with the lost contact lens. Ayumu was already resigned to things like this happening, so she simply relieved Hinagiku of her dirty socks.

The next part was harder – getting the coat off Hinagiku required active cooperation from the half-conscious girl. Ayumu unbuttoned the garment and slipped one of her hands under Hinagiku's back to roll her over. Hinagiku murmured in dissatisfaction, but no recognizable words left her mouth. Ayumu pulled at one of the coat's sleeves and neared success in freeing Hinagiku's arm. Hinagiku hummed and smiled an absent smile. And then, just as Ayumu was about to finish her maneuver, Hinagiku rolled over and undid all the hard work in a single move.

Ayumu gaped in outrage at the delinquent drunk who seemed to be screwing around with her. She pushed away from the sofa and placed her hands on her hips.

"Enough, Hina," she berated with a frown "If you won't cooperate, undress by yourself."

Hinagiku's eyes opened slightly, more carefully this time, to reveal a distant and lost look. It seemed she didn't comprehend her friend's words. To Ayumu's surprise, though, Hinagiku started to wriggle and, with snake-like movements, shed the coat off from her frame.

Ayumu was nonplussed. She watched in disbelief as the drunk girl proceeded to fold the problematic item of clothing. Had she known Hinagiku retained so much of her dexterity even with her head in la-la land, she would have left her friend to solve her own problem from the very beginning...

"What do you think you're doing!?" Ayumu exploded, her train of thought derailed the moment she saw Hinagiku had no intention of ending things at the coat. With a tug forceful enough to destroy what was left of her shaky balance, Hinagiku pulled her shirt over her head and threw it aside. Ayumu bolted and, before she could properly think things over, she was straggling Hinagiku and restraining the girl's hands. Hinagiku paused, surprised at her friend's apparent change of mind regarding her undressing, and stopped trying to unstrap her bra. The two, their faces flushed and inches apart, looked deeply into each other's eyes.

"Gah!" Ayumu groaned, breaking the contact and taking a step away from the sofa. She frowned at the thought that even in her drunken state, Hinagiku had been barely affected by her attempt at a hold. Where did the budding politician hide all that strength in the tiny body?

"Don't take my instructions literally!"

Supporting herself on one elbow, Hinagiku lurched forward after Ayumu, as if missing the feel of her companion's skin on her own. She stopped before falling of the sofa, hand outstretpched and a longing, puppy-like look in her eyes.

"Ayumu..." she moaned sadly.

And then, just as Ayumu was about to bark at the other woman to get herself back together, a cell phone ring interrupted them.

Ayumu reflexively reached into her pocket, took the device out and pressed the receive button.

"Hello?" she asked.

Only when she went through the whole habitual procedure did it occur to her that picking up right now might not have been the best course of action.

"Boss? Is everything alright?" asked the voice at the other end of the line.

Ayumu felt the urge to slap herself on the forehead. She should have expected that. Her uninvited guest made her lose track of time. Normally, she would have already finished the short walk to her workplace by now. She never came late to work, not without letting her employees know.

"Everything's fine, I was just-"

"Ayumu...!"

Ayumu's blood froze as she heard Hinagiku's drawl resound all over the room, doubtlessly heard by her interlocutor on the phone.

"-just leaving. I had to take-"

"Ayumu...! I love you...!"

"-take care of somebody here!"

Ayumu screamed the last part into the receiver, hoping to deliver her message before Hinagiku could annihilate what was left of her image. As if to mock her, a deep, pregnant silence followed.

"Boss, if you're, uh, occupied, we can manage on our own."

"No!" Ayumu yelled, red in the face, before trying to calm herself down and sound as professional as possible "Use your spare key and start working on the bread and rolls. Leave the cakes to me, I'll come and do them later. No, you can't do those half as well as I do."

She issued a few more orders, rebuking any of her employees' nosy questions.

"Understood?"

Having received her acknowledgements, Ayumu cut the connection. But not before hearing a dissatisfied voice grumble "And she was supposed to be single," from the other side. She hadn't taken on older, more experienced workers because most of them couldn't cope with the idea of being ordered around by a younger woman. But hiring people her age brought along its own share of problems.

Ayumu put the phone back into her pocket and walked over to Hinagiku. The drunk girl, having kept quiet for the last few minutes, saw it as an opportunity to make some more proclamations. But Ayumu would have none of it.

"Tell that to your sweetheart instead," she pointed an accusing finger at Hinagiku "Once you sober up, that is. I doubt a meeting between you two would do much good right now."

Ayumu went to a cupboard to retrieve a set of keys and threw them onto the table with a jingle.

"You know the drift, Hina," Ayumu stated with a sigh "Throw them into the letter box when you're stable enough to go. I'll lock the door from outside."

Hinagiku lacked the mental capability to close her opened mouth. Ayumu wondered briefly whether not to take a quick snapshot of her face and caption it 'Hina_drunk_and_'. She decided against that – Hinagiku had explicitly warned her not to create lasting evidence, after all. Just one month more. One month and it would all hopefully end: the nightly visits, the disguises, the drinking habit...

Ayumu headed for the door, deciding not to dwell on things she couldn't change.

"Ayumu..."

Hinagiku's sob stopped her once more. This time, there was something different in Hinagiku's voice, and Ayumu recognized it perfectly. She turned around and went for the sofa, knowing full well what was coming.

"Am I a disgrace?" Hinagiku rambled on "Does she... does she... does sis think I'm a disgrace?"

Ayumu wrapped the other woman in her arms, patting her head soothingly. The first time this happened, she told Hinagiku to call and ask the person herself. Now she no longer tried to reason with her friend.

"What if she could see me like this? What if Hayate-kun could see me? What if..."

Ayumu silenced her with a finger to her lips and continued stroking her hair. This was the most she could do. She had no financial empire behind her, no political influence or superhuman strength. All she had was a kind heart.

As long as the girl needed it, she would at least give her closest friend as much comfort as she could.

xxx

* * *

**Companion planting** is the planting of different plants in proximity (in gardening and agriculture), on the theory that they assist each other in nutrient uptake, pest control and pollination. Some plants complement each other, giving off by-products that the other plant needs. Other beneficial plants provide some protection against insects and planting a few of them near a desired plant will keep the insects away.

_They asked her if she was aware she had to lose... but didn't sakura trees bloom knowing their petals would fall?_


	4. Venus Flytrap

**AN:** A more timely update? About to get into the meat of things? Yes to both.

* * *

xxx

"The final form of this bill is the fruit of the efforts of many people, and I'd like to express my gratitude to them. For the hours spent on ensuring it fits within the boundaries established by the Constitution, for every addition and improvement made, I am grateful to all members of the committee," Hinagiku gave a bow in the direction of the aforementioned group of people sitting in a row across from her. One woman nodded back at her, followed by another shaky nod from one of her colleagues. The rest remained perfectly still. The people whose contribution was being applauded wore masks of stone, unsure of how to react to draw the least attention possible. Sitting at the very front of the hall, they couldn't see the faces of the people turning to look at them. But the smothering silence in the hall was so deep they could hear the rustle of cloth that accompanied the movement.

"However, it is now our responsibility to make good use of their hard work," the committee members let out a collective sigh of relief as the death stares traveled back to Hinagiku "We now have in our hands a tool to smash the injustice pervading our everyday lives. Many of us have faltered in the past – we have seen momentary victories fading in the face of an enemy too numerous and relentless to be ultimately defeated. Sometimes it was money, sometimes it were shady connections, but each time we cut the monster's head off, there was something that stopped us from delivering the final blow. But this time, we hold the power to slay it outright, no matter how deep the darkness that hides it. I am aware of the differences between us. The paths we take may not have much in common. But all of us represent one people, we are the sword of our nation's justice. The power to achieve anything lies within our votes."

Hinagiku finished her speech and descended from the podium. Each step she made on the way back to her seat could be perfectly heard. This silence was an even split between outrage and apprehension.

"You're mad, Katsura."

What broke the stillness was not a murmur, but a raised voice. It came from the lips of Tsuchimikado, the only person in the room who could afford to speak anything he wanted even with the hordes of reporters standing at the ready all around them.

"You can't win this!"

Hinagiku glanced at the politician, but neither changed her pace nor tried to respond. Her own words would be taken apart and used against her now, whatever she might say.

"You're just painting a crosshair on your forehead!"

As she was about to sit down, Hinagiku turned to the flashing cameras and gave them her best smile.

xxx

**Chapter 4**

**Venus Flytrap**

xxx

Instead of immediately getting down to the voting, the Speaker had to announce a break in the proceedings. Some of the politicians sitting in the back rows had failed to endure the high tension levels in the room and started a fiery argument. It was decided to give everybody a chance to calm down rather than risk having things evolve into a fistfight.

This was to be expected. From the very beginning, the bill was something which had put people on edge. It would mean the creation of a body with the right to investigate all crime in the world of big corporations. This would also entail the right to observe multiple companies and the families supporting them, as long as sufficient evidence was provided that any one part of the chain warrants suspicion. The investigation would be kept secret from everybody in the Diet but the Prime Minister.

Hinagiku had not been lying when she said every detail of the bill had to be carefully worded for it not to be in conflict with the Constitution. What she was trying to create was a monster with the ability to sink its claws into every person's life. She claimed only this would be enough to bring down the true masterminds of crime, the people with enough wealth and influence to dispose of their compromised puppets again and again while evading justice, like lizards shedding their tails to escape. To slay the Hydra, Hinagiku would create a beast fearsome enough to be its equal.

Under normal circumstances, enough people would be opposed to such extreme ideas to make it impossible to pass such a bill. Even if it came under vote, it would merely be a watered-down version of the original, no longer coherent enough to be taken seriously. This was supposed to be the same – a risky populist stunt Katsura Hinagiku used to jumpstart her political career. However, something went wrong along the way. The changes proposed by the specialist commission didn't kill the bill. It didn't get stuck forever in the Speaker's drawer. The people in the know suspected her influence came from her connections with a former Prime Minister's family - his group still held sway in the current government. But that was no reason for worry. There were plenty of powerful people in the Diet, and all of them knew power had to be used carefully and in responsible ways.

But what they didn't expect was for all the unspoken agreements to be broken at the very last moment. The bill reached the Diet in a form no less dangerous than its original shape. Because those who had sworn to keep an eye on the legislation had never had the intention of doing so. This was the trump card of great betrayal Hinagiku held, the ace of diamonds called Sanzenin.

_Mob mentality, _Hinagiku mused. She had only gotten so far because everybody concerned had been all to eager to push the responsibility of stopping her onto somebody else. She could no longer rely on this complacency alone to pull her through. The stakes were too high here, with many of her new colleagues directly threatened by what she was putting forward.

But right now, she had to escape from the ambush of journalists coming at her from both sides. She kept moving even after the bombardment of questions began. Keeping still only made it easier for them to encircle you.

"Let me comment after we actually vote," she threw the words at the reporters to her left, waving dismissively at the ones to her right at the same time. It wasn't enough to make them let her go, obviously, but she didn't bother trying to decipher the questions they kept on throwing at her back as she forced her way forward.

There was enough other prey for them to lose interest in her after a while. The fistfight duo would attract a lot of attention, of course. Hinagiku had a hunch those two had been set up to disturb the proceedings by somebody higher up. This wasn't exactly surprising, and she was confident it would amount to nothing but stalling for time. In truth, the battle of today had already been decided long ago. It was the battle ahead she had to be worried about.

As she lost the last of the persistent cameramen following her, Hinagiku cracked a smile. Today's news would probably be full of speculation regarding whether she would get expelled from the party for her crazy ideas. She had asked Ayumu to tape the stuff beforehand.

"A cup of tea, please," Hinagiku smiled at the young woman serving in the cafeteria "Make it extra sweet, too."

There were some props to this job, Hinagiku decided as the steaming cup of tea was brought to her only a short moment later. She carefully dipped her lips in the hot liquid, finding the taste to her satisfaction.

She sensed somebody approaching her before she had the time to step away from the counter. To her surprise, the footsteps creeping up on her were not the hurried ones of a reporter ready for another go at her but ones measured and confident. She put the cup down, schooled her expression into a polite smile and turned around.

"Nakamaura-san!" she met the taller man's eyes "What pleasure to meet you."

The elder of the Nakamura family returned her gaze coldly, not caring to reciprocate Hinagiku's fake friendliness. He stood in silence, letting his adversary feel the pressure. His grey eyes were boulders weighing down on anyone foolish enough to oppose him. In the back of her head, even Hinagiku felt intimidated. But the desire to face that glare head-on, cultivated for many years, was burning white-hot and blinded her to any fear she might have held.

"What might be the matter, Nakamura-san?"

The man kept her waiting a moment longer before opening his mouth. The wrinkles all over his face shifted with his every word.

"We expected a few improvements to the bill, Katsura."

"Oh, don't worry," Hinagiku shot back immediately "We worked really hard on it, taking all suggestions into account. Like the provision that the Head of the Bureau cannot serve any other public function simultaneously, or the one that the Bureau is to present the use of its funds at the end of every year. Advice coming from members of your party was as valuable as any of our own ideas."

Nakamura let his customary moment of silence pass. And then his lips twisted in a crooked smile. A low, halting laugh, much like a cough, came from his throat.

"Is that what Yochiba and Kendo sold themselves for? You will find a way to gobble them up with or without those puny restrictions, you ugly thing."

"Thank you, I age well."

It was their first proper meeting, but the hatred between the two was like matured wine.

"This is your last chance, Katsura. Call this off and tell your buddies you've come to your senses and don't expect them to vote for this mad idea."

"I don't expect anything, Nakamura-san. I know they will vote for it."

"Aren't there enough corpses in the grave of five years ago?"

For just a second, Hinagiku felt her voice die in her throat. Just a second.

"There is more than enough room for you there, Nakamura-san. I'm sure the bugs can't wait."

For all her self-control, Hinagiku felt her muscles tense as she spat out the reply. All of her body screamed at her to plunge a fist deep into the man's face. This wasn't the honorable battle she desired. This was a filthy swamp no amount of preparation could have made less repulsive.

"Fine," Nakamura finished the conversation, easily reading from Hinagiku's face that there was no point in discussing things any further. This was the legendary 'fine' Hinagiku had heard so much about – the one that meant your fate was sealed and that you no longer existed.

Indeed, Nakamura turned around and left her with neither more threats nor a single word of farewell, like a cat bored with a dead mouse.

For a moment, Hinagiku watched the man's retreating back, turning things over in her head. This was the first domino piece falling over. In the elaborate labyrinth of schemes and plots, she was no longer sure which pieces would be toppled and which would remain standing. Only one thing was certain, the chain of destruction could no longer be stopped after being put into motion.

Hinagiku was about to go her own way, but her mind told her she was forgetting something. She turned around and remembered.

Her tea was still there on the counter, along with the visibly distressed girl who had served it. No sane person would have approached the counter with the pair arguing there.

Hinagiku tried her best to wipe the threatening frown off her face and flashed the girl an apologetic smile.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Peering through the windscreen, Hinagiku took a good look at Johan's sleeping face. His mouth was open and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. There was some kind of foreign magazine lying in his lap. So that's how he spent his working hours when Hinagiku wasn't there.

Hinagiku walked over to the driver's door and opened it as gently as possible. As she had expected, Johan kept on snoring lightly. Hinagiku smirked, placed the briefcase in her hands on the ground and leaned over the man's sleeping form. She stretched her arm and reached into the pocket of Johan's jacket. After a bit of fishing around, she withdrew her arm, now with the car keys in her hand.

It was impossible to close the door soundlessly, but Hinagiku tried her best. It was enough for the chauffeur not to wake up. Hinagiku picked her briefcase up and skirted happily to the back door, opening and closing them as forcefully as possible.

Suddenly brought back to the waking world, Johan tried to gather his bearings as best he could. His eyes caught Hinagiku in the rear-view mirror.

"Ah! Katsura-san. You scared me."

"Did I really?" Hinagiku asked with an all-too-innocent smile on her face. She took out a paper from her briefcase and pretended to read it.

"Yes, I was, uh... resting my eyes for a moment."

Hinagiku's grin grew wider as she watched Johan attempt to start the car. His hand went into the pocket where he kept his keys, but found nothing there. Johan paused in surprise, but went on to check the other pocket. Having found nothing there either, he grew a little panicky. Hinagiku secretly watched his growing distress.

Finally, Johan slumped and let out a defeated sigh.

"The car keys please, Katsura-san."

"Here you go," Hinagiku answered easily, handing over her prize.

"I'm sorry, Katsura-san."

"Whatever for?"

As Johan put the key in the ignition, Hinagiku returned the paper to her briefcase.

"What was it that had my chauffeur sleeping in the middle of the day?"

Johan drove into the streets, not having to ask Hinagiku to know where they were going now.

"We were fixing the church roof last night. The church can't afford to hire people to help out so..."

Hinagiku rested her elbow on an armrest and let her head lean on her hand.

"I don't mind you doing whatever you want after hours, but I don't want you falling asleep behind the wheel. I don't know if I can survive a car crush just yet."

"No worries, ma'am," Johan assured her immediately, deciding not to dwell on how serious she was being.

They drove slowly through the streets, the number of cars not allowing them to go any faster. Johan took his hands off the steering wheel when they had to stop at a crossing.

"Seeing that you were in the mood for pranks, Katsura-san, I take it things went well today."

"Hmmm... Hinagiku muttered back, looking outside at the passing people "The Investigation Bureau bill went through. Fifty-eight percent for, just the usual voting blocks. Nobody really voted against their party's official stance."

Johan was surprised at the lack of enthusiasm in Hinagiku's voice.

"Wasn't that one of the bills you cared most about, Katsura-san?"

"That's the only bill I care about, Johan-kun," Hinagiku huffed "And if things really went as planned today, then everything is about to fall apart."

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Hinagiku peeked into her letterbox. No letters this time around. The leaflet people were afraid of her, for some inexplicable reason, so she never got the usual supermarket leaflets. But her position of influence meant there was a constant stream of people trying to get in touch with her: email, mail, phone, whatever. It wasn't enough that this small flat wasn't her official address.

She inserted the key into the lock and turned it twice as she always did. She did the same with another lock. Hinagiku couldn't accept half-measures.

She took off her shoes and entered her humble abode. She threw her suit and necktie onto a clothes hanger on the nearby wall. There were other pieces of clothing hanging all over the flat. Hinagiku wouldn't let anyone else in to take care of the place, but couldn't find the time to do it herself. The thin layer of dust covering her lesser-used furniture was proof enough that housekeeping had been a challenge.

Hinagiku went to the bathroom and splashed cold water over her face. A day of work always left her feeling like a zombie. Suffering through hours of back and forth in official garb could probably serve as punishment for minor offenses. But at least everyday tasks would usually leave her tired enough to stop her thinking about everything else, not a restless wreck like today.

_Special Internal Investigation Bureau, eh..._

She didn't feel like turning on the TV and finding out what the press had to say about her performance. She would go around giving interviews and getting mud thrown at her starting tomorrow. She didn't have it in her to call the usual sources for an update, either. She went down her cell phone's address book absent-mindedly. The list of members had grown to an absurd length in the last year, and yet she couldn't remember the faces of half the people there.

Her hand stopped when a familiar number came up. Her finger hovered over the dial button. _Stupid, _she berated herself. _Only in business matters and emergencies, remember?_ The powerful grip of melancholy told her she had to hear that voice again. Her common sense argued that it was too great a risk: the phone could be bugged, her telephone bills were likely under tight scrutiny... Besides, they could meet on Friday, like always, with a perfectly fine excuse. There was no need to put themselves in jeopardy.

Her own arguments seemed laughably unconvincing. She started pacing all over the flat, pouring the nervous energy building up in her internal struggle into movement as best she could. She circled the table in the living room. She filled a glass with water in the kitchen and downed it in one gulp. She set the glass down with a clatter. She went to the office room. She stopped and dropped the phone.

The desk lamp was on. The bright light brought the desk out from the surrounding darkness. Hinagiku could feel no other presence in the room. In the silence, she would have heard the shallowest breath. But she was the only one allowed within here. And no one but her could have left the envelope resting proudly in the ring of light.

Hinagiku crossed the room with slow steps, as if unsure of her surroundings. She saw nothing out of place and merely confirmed that she was all alone in the room. She reached out for the envelope, this alien object which existed against all reason, as if to taunt her.

Her fingers touched the paper. It didn't dissolve – it was no illusion. The texture was that of genuine high-grade paper. Hinagiku lifted the envelope.

There were no markings or a return address. The envelope was not stamped or sealed. There wasn't even a slip of paper inside. But with the light streaming upon it, something within the envelope left a weak shadow. Hinagiku flipped the envelope upside down and shook it.

She stared at the thing with dumbfounded eyes as it drew lazy arcs on its way down. Left, right, left, right and it landed gracefully on the desk – a single pitch-black feather from a snow-white envelope.

_"They will try to bite back, you know."_

Hinagiku traced the edges of the feather with her fingers.

_"You're painting a crosshair on your forehead!"_

She tossed the envelope aside and carefully picked the feather up to place it in her palm.

_"Aren't there enough corpses in the grave of five years ago?"_

Her composure broke.

"**Yes!**" she smashed her free fist into the desk, quickly raising it again for another blow "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

The desk trembled under her strikes, and Hinagiku felt pain shoot through her arm. There was a dent where the wood had met her hand.

"Come at me!" she screamed, bent over and stifling a laugh "Let your little bird show me what he's got!"

With stumbling steps, she moved backwards to rest against the wall. She had clenched the hand holding the feather during her outburst, and now she opened it. The broken and bent feather fell straight to the ground. Sliding down with her back to the wall, Hinagiku followed its path.

Sobs of laughter still shook her frame as she tried unsuccessfully to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes. She forgot about the cell phone on the floor and the tasks awaiting her tomorrow. She stared straight ahead and laughed.

This was how the girl celebrated her victory.

xxx

* * *

**Venus flytrap (bot.) - **n. An insectivorous plant _(Dionaea muscipula)_ having sensitive, hinged, marginally bristled, two-lobed leaf blades that close and entrap insects.

_It was her wedding day, and for once she wasn't sure if she wanted him by her side._


	5. Forever Scorched Ground I

xxx

_Five years before Aegis_

xxx

"How long do I have left, Kenji?"

Kenji set the coffee down with a clatter. The liquid moved up and down, threatening to escape from the cup. The servant silently cursed his surprise.

"How long do I have left, Kenji?"

Sanzenin Mikado repeated his question. His face never turned to acknowledge his servant. The wheels of his wheelchair squeaked quietly as he moved back and forth. His wrinkled hands held onto a wooden photo frame. His gaze was lost amid the smiling faces behind the glass.

Kenji grimaced slightly. He watched the old man wordlessly from the corner of his eye. If possible, he would like to leave without providing an answer.

"I asked you a question, my friend."

Mikado's eyes finally moved, pinning the servant down. Kenji flinched, leaning away but not daring to take a step back. There was no escape now.

"Please, drink your coffee, Mikado-sama."

Kenji nudged the cup, trying to turn Mikado's attention away.

Mikado didn't break eye contact, but his mouth twisted into a sick smile. He enjoyed making Kenji squirm.

"Drink it yourself, Kenji."

The servant shook his head.

"It was prepared specially for you, Mikado-sama."

"Drink it, Kenji."

"If Mikado-sama is no longer in the mood to drink, I will take it away."

Mikado caught the hand that went for the cup in a vicelike grip. The photo frame fell from his hands, forgotten.

"Drink it."

Mikado glared at the servant, eyes as cold as ice. But the gaze Kenji returned was no warmer, and his muscles were tense, never submitting to the old man's grip. He nodded at Mikado – he would comply if his master gave him the chance to move.

Mikado let his hand fall and rest on the tea table. He did not withdraw it. The two men did not break eye contact even as Kenji's fingers tightened around the cup and raised it to his lips.

The serpent of black liquid leapt, the wheelchair screeched, the cup shattered. Kenji's hand went into his tuxedo, fishing out a gun in the same motion in which he had tossed the cup. But he was too late.

Sanzenin Mikado did not reel away when the burning-hot liquid poured down on him. His arm shot out to cut through the stream and shield his face. He did not stop. With gritted teeth, he lashed out.

The gun's polished surface glistened, reflecting the sun streaming in from the window. The muzzle stared hungrily at Mikado's forehead. But Kenji had never shot a man before. For a fraction of a second, he hesitated.

The hands of the two man collided. Kenji lost his grip on the firearm, and his surprised eyes followed its path as it fell to the ground and slid under a desk. Carried forward by his momentum, Mikado fell upon the servant.

On reflex, Kenji pushed the old man back with all his strength. In his weakened and unbalanced state, Mikado couldn't help being sent tumbling halfway through the room. The servant took a few steps back, widening the distance between them further. He cast a longing look at where his gun had disappeared, but knew better than to go for it and expose his back to his master.

Mikado's hands dragged his body in a graceless crawl. Without his wheelchair or other support, it was too difficult for him to stand up. He forced his weak muscles to work, moving faster and faster as the adrenaline rush came full force.

Kenji watched his master struggling on the way to the wall. He didn't want to take his eyes off the unpredictable old man even for a second. He groped around blindly behind himself, searching for a weapon he knew to be there. His hands were shaking.

Mikado gripped a bookshelf to lift himself up, keeping his back to the wall and Kenji in sight. Little by little, he brought himself to a standing position, every centimeter bought with a heave and pain going through his burned arm. Mikado saw his servant take one of the family's ancestral swords off the wall. Mikado had ordered those to be kept sharp at all times, never expecting to be on the receiving end of one of those blades.

And so, the sickly and pained man cracked his first genuine smile in months.

"You should've drunk that, Kenji. It wouldn't kill you, right? Or did you grow impatient and increase the dose?"

Kenji advanced wordlessly, holding the sword in both hands. Mikado could try to ring the bell on the desk to call for help or escape through the door. Both means of rescue were a few tantalizing meters away. He would have to get through Kenji either way.

"How come you do this only after twenty years of service? How much did you sell your loyalty for?"

This time, the questions made Kenji stop. The servant let out a shuddering breath, trying to keep his conflicting emotions in check.

"What the hell do you even know?! You live behind your wall of money, you have secret agents following every member of your family, you forgot normal people even exist!" Kenji's face reddened as he screamed "You know, the time I found that black feather on my desk, I laughed it off as a prank. And later, in my car, in my son's letter, in my granddaughter's school bag...!" Kenji's grip on the sword tightened "My whole family is being targeted because you mess around with the wrong people! But did that secret service of yours notice?! Or maybe they just don't care?"

Kenji dashed forward, raising his sword. He brought it down with an angry yell.

The blade cut through the air with a swish. What came after was not a scream of pain, but the dull thud of steel lodging into wood.

Kenji lowered his head to follow Mikado. The old man had let go of the shelf and crumpled to the ground just as Kenji swung the sword. Kenji pulled the weapon out of the wood with all his strength and prepared to deliver another blow.

At the last moment, his eyes caught his master's unusual movement and he changed his stance to block a book thrown at him.

The projectile reached its target, but it was not enough to even faze Kenji. He easily deflected the book and let it fall to the ground beside him. But he immediately realized that something was wrong. The book had been too light, and once it hit the ground, it opened to reveal that its pages were all carved out in the middle.

Kenji watched in disbelief as Mikado pointed an old-fashioned revolver at his face.

"You know, Kenji," Mikado rasped out "I liked your serious look back there."

And a single shot rang out.

xxx

**Chapter 5**

**Forever-scorched Ground (I)**

xxx

Maria dashed through the Sanzenin mansion. Her feet carried her along the familiar corridors on their own. She kept stealing glances at the printout in her hands, her brows furrowed in a worried frown.

She rounded a corner and faced an ornate door. Her hand went for the handle, but she stopped before entering. She gave three solid knocks on the door.

"Come in," a voice from inisde allowed her entry.

Maria slipped into the room and closed the door behind her softly. The thick carpet silenced her steps as she moved inward to properly greet the other occupant of the room.

"Maria," Sanzenin Nagi hailed her maid from her seat behind a desk, a hint of question in her voice.

"Nagi," Maria answered with a nod "Urgent news from your grandfather."

Nagi rested her cheek on the palm of her hand and twirled a pen in the other hand.

"The old man? Hasn't he caused me enough trouble by dumping all this on me?" she moved her chin to point to the stacks of paper littering the desk, a day's share of all the documents needed to run the Sanzenin empire. Despite her irritation, Nagi read the mood and nodded for Maria to go on.

"It appears an attempt has been made on Mikado-sama's life."

Nagi's eyes widened slightly. She showed no other signs of surprise. Assassination attempts were something she had lived through too many times to pretend there weren't people out there who wanted them dead. It was only unexpected that there was somebody crazy enough to go after the old man without fear of retribution.

"The result?" Nagi demanded.

"The attack itself was unsuccessful," Maria reported "But the incident put too much pressure on Mikado-sama. With his fragile health, he collapsed soon after fighting the assailant off. He is currently under the care of the medical staff of the main mansion."

Nagi lifted her head and clasped her hands in front of her to hide her face. She turned things over in her head. Mikado's health was not an immediate problem – she was already controlling most of the family's affairs in his stead. However, if things were to worsen further...

"What's more," Maria continued after giving Nagi some time for the information to sink in "while he remains unconscious most of the time, your grandfather has left a single message addressed to you."

Somehow, Nagi knew what was coming.

"He said," Maria went on "he would stay alive until you married."

"Stupid," Nagi huffed.

Silence settled into the room. This was one of those things that hadn't changed at all even as Nagi had grown – the vast spaces of the mansion would always suffocate their occupants with silence, reminding them they were alone, as was the fate of the Sanzenin.

"I have a theory, if I may share," Maria finally spoke up, going on without waiting for Nagi to acknowledge her request "Mikado-sama has been steadily preparing you to take over as head of family over the last few years. This probably brought much dissatisfaction to all those hoping to benefit from Mikado-sama's eventual death," Maria paused to look at the note in her hand once more "He told us he suspected he was being targeted before all of this happened, right? The enemies of the family must have grown impatient. After all, they'll do everything to strike before you start being considered an adult. I believe Mikado-sama wishes to buy you time to prevent that."

Nagi huffed again and stood up, pushing herself away from the desk. She turned her back to Maria and walked up to the large window at the back of the room to gaze at the estate garden below. She crossed her arms behind her back.

"I know that much without you spelling it out for me, Maria."

She sounded angry. She scowled at the sea of flowers in her sight. How was she supposed not to be furious? But it was not Maria who sparked off her ire.

She was Sanzenin. She was the one who maintained the status quo of things in the country for everyone's benefit, but also the one who could make that precarious balance crumble with a single order. She provided millions with work and happy lives, and she was despised by millions for robbing them of their wealth and dreams. She owned a thousand more of those unbearably vast mansions and as many labyrinthine gardens.

But she was also Nagi, and the only things she cared about were her friends, the woman standing behind her and the butler tending to the flowers below.

"I don't need this," Nagi barked at the scenery below her "I could survive with a fraction of all this. If they want it so badly, they can come and take it."

Nagi watched her reflection in the window pane and felt something break free when she saw the wild fire within her own eyes. Her fist struck the glass.

"But if they raise their hands against my old man, they raise their hands against me! I won't let trash like that tarnish my name!"

She whipped around to meet eyes with maria. The maid wore an expression in stark contrast to Nagi's own – it was as calm as the depths of sea. But there was all the pride and support in the world in it. This was the answer Maria had expected all along.

"I'll be able to inherit the family fortune normally when I turn twenty," Nagi began "That's in two years."

"But you can establish your position before that," Maria added "if you fulfill your parents' last will."

"And marry Wataru as planned," Nagi finished. Maria nodded.

Nagi's eyes wandered once more more to the window, searching for a figure clad in black among the rows of colourful flowers. But she would explain it to him when the time was right. Now she could not afford regrets. Nothing could stop what was happening.

"Wataru will turn eighteen next month. He has his parents' permission to legally marry at that age from back when we were children," Nagi nodded at Maria "Let's do this, whatever it takes."

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Kurosuke Kaoru stepped out of his luxurious, black sports car. This entrance alone earned him the envious glances of half the neighborhood. Usually, Kaoru's job would make it beneficial for him not to draw attention, but there were also times when making the right impression meant the difference between success and failure.

Kaoru fixed his tie as he approached the doorstep of the Sumeragi household. It was a small family house, currently inhabited only by a newlywed pair with no children. The head of the household worked as an insurance agent. It was not a shockingly lucrative job, but he had apparently also inherited a round sum from his parents, allowing him to buy the house.

Kaoru knew all this because the man in question had been seen playing baseball with head butler Kenji, the assailant of Sanzenin Mikado. As weak as the connection was, it had to be properly researched. Kaoru pressed the doorbell button.

Sumeragi didn't make him wait long. He opened the door and greeted his guest with a smile, immediately ushering him in. The cover story prepared for Kaoru was that he was a representative of a company supporting Sumeragi's employers. Naturally, Sumeragi went out of his way to give Kaoru a proper welcome.

The two men sat down in the guest room and engaged in some small talk. Kaoru refused an offer for some sake – he would be driving back later – but gladly accepted some juice in exchange. As the two sipped their drinks, Kaoru asked his host about the neighborhood and baseball, probing him for information regarding Kenji. Sumeragi proved to be a simple-minded man, not good at remembering names and dates, but eager to describe the beautiful women living in the area. He was lucky his wife was out shopping.

Maybe because of his suit, Kaoru felt uncomfortably hot in the guest room. He was grateful for the cool juice, and took a few large gulps before moving onto the main topic of their conversation.

"By the way, Sumeragi-san," he began, taking something out of his pocket and placing it on the table "Does this remind you of anything?"

Sumeragi looked quizzically between the black feather on the table and Kaoru, who was wiping sweet off his forehead with the sleeve of his suit. He picked the object up to examine it up close, but his face showed no sign of recognition. Finally, he put the feather down with a shrug.

"Not really, Kuroshima-san."

"Kurosuke," Kaoru corrected the man on reflex.

"Right. Kuroshima was the guy we killed yesterday."

With Sumeragi's beaming smile, it took a whole second for the horrible truth to register in Kaoru's mind.

He leapt to his feet. His face met the table a second after he realized strength had left his legs. He tried to support himself with his arms, but his movements were sluggish and imprecise. He only managed to topple the two glasses and spill their contents.

Sumeragi stood up and walked calmly around the table, waving a finger at Kaoru admonishingly.

"Please don't make a mess, Kurosuke-san. I hate cleaning those up, you see."

Kaoru rolled limply to the floor as paralysis claimed more and more of his body.

"There are two kinds of true assassins in this world, Kurosuke-san. There are people like the Crow, who simply never make mistakes," Sumeragi grabbed the prone Kaoru by the back of his head "and there are Blackbirds like me, who can't afford to make a mistake," Sumeragi's other arm circled around Kaoru's neck "Kenji's failure was a mistake," he leaned in to whisper directly into Kaoru's ear "But I'm not done yet."

There was a snap, and Kaoru's body fell limply to the floor.

xxx

* * *

_Reach into the flames. Your flesh melts away, your nails crack, your arm turns into ashes._

_Reach into the flames. What worth does your body have if it cannot protect another?_


	6. Forever Scorched Ground II

**AN:** Welcome everyone! This chapter might be as similar to the usual Hayate as you'll get in this story, so please enjoy it for what it's worth. Next chapter will likely be longer. Most of exam hell will be behind me in a week, too, so I hope for my update speed to go up.

Have fun reading!

* * *

xxx

_Five years before Aegis_

xxx

Sergeant Jones stared hatefully at the smoldering cigarette end by his feet. That had been his last one. Now he would have to go buy another pack and get through all those blasted Japs and their _irrashaimases _and _okyakusamas. _Either that or ride one of those bloody trains to get to the nearest vendor machine. What a god-forsaken place this country was.

"Jones!"

The soldier who approached him received about as much warmth from the sergeant as the bedraggled cigarette end had.

"Uh...:

If Jones hated something more than he did the squeaky voices of the local people, it was people disturbing him and then forgetting what the hell they wanted to say. Before he had the chance to give his colleague a piece of his mind though, the other soldier gathered his bearings and spoke up. His conflicted expression made it obvious he would get a scolding from someone scarier than Jones if he failed to relay whatever information he had.

"We are to report in front of the barracks in five. Colonel's orders."

"What for?"

Jones smashed the cigarette beneath his foot, grinding it into the ground. He could put on a tough face, but orders were orders.

"Schedule change. We're taking flight today."

Jones stopped venting his anger on the cigarette.

"Some good news, at last."

xxx

**Chapter 6**

**Forever-scorched Ground (II)**

xxx

"Woah!" Hayate let out a gasp of amazement as they disembarked from the private jet "As expected from Ojou-sama's family, they even own a true jungle residence!"

The butler's spell of admiration was cut short by hands shoving him on the back and pushing him out of the way. There was a whole group of people wishing to touch ground just one step behind him, after all.

"It's not a jungle," Nagi dismissed her favorite servant's idea with a dissatisfied look on her face. She had been in a disagreeable mood from the very beginning of the trip, for reasons unknown to Hayate "It's just a forest nobody had time to take proper care of. This is one of the less-used summer houses we own. My parents apparently made the first stop on their honeymoon here," Nagi turned away from Hayate to mutter under her breath "They didn't have to go as far as specifying this as the place for my ceremony, though. What if an earthquake destroyed the mansion or something?"

Hayate was too busy putting the bags they had taken with them safely away from the plane to hear her last few comments.

"May I ask one thing, Ojou-sama?" he asked, oblivious to the alarm that appeared in his master's eyes the moment he finished the question "Why did we come here so suddenly?"

Nagi didn't answer. Actually, her lips were so tightly shut even a truth serum would have gotten nothing out of her. Assuming that nobody took her quickly reddening face as answer enough.

"Um..." Nagi forced herself to speak, her high IQ and young mind trying to find a response that would be close enough to the truth but would not ruin her romantic prospects with the butler "You know..."

"Nagi!" Maria's voice interrupted her as the maid's head popped out from within the plane "Should I prepare the wedding dress immediately?"

"Wedding?" Hatate repeated the dreaded phrase, much to Nagi's horror "Whose?"

"We should check it for creases," Maria went on, like an unstoppable anvil falling on her mistress's head "I want you to look the best you can on an important day like this, Nagi."

Amid the imaginary sounds of her world falling apart, Nagi met Hayate's gaze.

**"Cosplay party!"**

With her hands outstretched as if to physically stop her butler from coming to the wrong conclusion, Nagi yelled the first thing that came to her mind.

"Huh?"

Hayate blinked in an ineffective attempt to alter his wavelength to that of his mistress. Nagi felt as stupid as was humanly possible without going into seppuku territory.

But her state of agony ended there. The wind changed its direction. The song it hummed with the leafy branches of the surrounding forest turned into a pained moan. Nagi and Hayate shivered at the same moment. Were they afraid, or had it suddenly become cold? Like passers-by attracted by the sight of a car crash, they felt their attention shifting to the source of the foul energy pervading the air.

Said source was one Katsura Hinagiku, barely keeping her legs steady as she descended from the jet, supported by her friends Miki and Ayumu on either side.

"It's alright now, Hina-chan," Ayumu chirped, trying to cheer the other girl up "We've already landed."

"I'm surprised we did," Miki commented in her usual deadpan tone "Was that a bird we collided with?"

Hinagiku seemed to shrink further at the insensitive words and the still-fresh memories they invoked. But right behind the distressed former student council president, there were Asakaze Risa and Segawa Izumi hopping to the ground with smiles on their faces. Another few seconds after the pair, Katsura Yukiji descended to the ground with her arms full of the snacks available on-board. Maria trailed after the teacher with a look of wonder in her eyes. But she had to keep her attention on the precious package in her hands rather than try to guess what Yukiji was hoarding the food for.

Nagi looked at the group of people slowly gathering on the plain, ticking of their names in her head as they set foot on the ground. Her headcount ended up three names short, and she let out a silent sigh. As people stopped chatting and looked around, they all came to the same conclusion she had.

They had to wait another few minutes before the remaining three guests were ready to get off. Kijima Saki and Tachibana Wataru escorted one young priestess out into the open with troubled looks on their faces. The girl herself was unperturbed – just getting lost on a private plane couldn't faze her. Saginomiya Isumi had already lived through worse ordeals.

"We're here," Isumi state airily. She stole a glance at Hayate before turning to Wataru and Nagi in turn "I still can't believe that all this time you two have been-"

"We haven't!"

The bride and bridegroom denied Isumi's would-be accusation in perfect unison. Experience always failed to teach them that this was not the most effective way of resolving misunderstandings.

There was love at stake here!

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"Is this really all right?"

The wedding agreement had been pointlessly detailed, stating things like the desired place of the ceremony and forcing Nagi into a dress to make it a 'white wedding' – an idea Yukariko had found unbearably cute. Still, there were some details it did not define, and Nagi intended to take full advantage of that. Like the required number of witnesses to the ceremony, for example.

"Just do it!" Nagi barked at the priest "Skip whatever lines aren't necessary!"

Her voice echoed nicely in the broom closet. Well, it was a Sanzenin broom closet, so it had enough room for Nagi, Wataru, the priest and six members of the Sanzenin secret service. It also had numerous brooms lining the walls. And dust, a few years' worth of it. But that was beside the point.

"Will we not wait for your close ones, Madam?" the priest tried, wondering silently how he had gotten himself mixed up with the crazy group.

But Nagi was not about to wait for anyone to show up. To the contrary, she would be perfectly happy to have everything wrapped up before any of her friends realized what was going on. Maria had pressured her into inviting some people, but Nagi would be the one getting the last laugh. Newspapers would probably write about the wedding for a few days, but she could just order Hayate to stay indoors for the remainder of the week. Not all hope was lost.

"Do it," Nagi repeated.

"Hurry it up, will you?" Wataru joined in.

As much as the young Tachibana heir wanted to help Nagi and have her owing him a favor, every second of this farce put his prospects with Isumi in jeopardy.

The priest looked at the pair about to enter the blessed path of love and devotion and shook his head in defeat.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"Not that I mind you joining us," Maria addressed the Hakuo students gathered in the room "but how did you learn about the wedding in the first place?"

Izumi gave her a sheepish grin and pointed an accusing finger at Risa. The part-time miko didn't look up from the snack she was eating, but waved her hand to reflect Maria's gaze to the other side of the table.

The two arguing over there were none other than the Katsura sisters. Hinagiku was doing her best to pry Yukiji's hands away from a bottle the older woman had procured somewhere. When together with her sister like this, Hinagiku looked nothing like the usual dignified student council president of days past. Then again, while Yukiji was still a teacher, all the girls had said goodbye to their old habits and set out on a new journey.

"Let 'em drink, Hina! They're old enough already!" Yukiji protested, keeping the bottle as fat away from Hinagiku as possible.

Seeing the wayward teacher in action, Maria could easily imagine Yukiji dragging her favorite students along for the ride. The older Katsura would clearly miss her idiot trio once the girls went their separate ways, no matter how much she wished to cover this fact up with her usual crazy antics. But there was an important piece of the puzzle missing, and Maria never settled for an imperfect solution.

How would Yukiji herself sniff out their plans? The had spread before Maria even had time to call Hinagiku, much less the older sister. Maria turned the question over in her head as she surveyed the room. At the far end of the table, Isumi was gesticulating wildly, explaining something to Ayumu and Saki. From time to time, Hayate would appear and drop off a few teacups or plates, but then he was gone again in the blink of an eye. That wasn't the butlers making, Maria's intuition told her. And that only left one suspect.

Maria sat down next to the girl with a nod of greeting. The gesture went unanswered. The girl, sitting alone at the table, didn't tear her gaze away from the bickering Katsuras.

"Would you mind telling me how you learned about this wedding so fast, Hanabishi-san?" Maria asked the silent girl sweetly.

Miki gave no indication that she had heard the maid. She observed Hinagiku struggling with her sister and nearly falling over in the scuffle. But after a moment of this silent treatment, she turned to Maria.

It was like the hot winds of spring tearing through the snows of winter, a clash of titans which went unheralded. Miki's impassive eyes met Maria's perfectly chiseled friendly smile. The two extremes fought for dominance in a no-holds-barred fight.

It took almost a minute, but Miki had to give in with a sigh. There were things a maid couldn't be beaten at.

"As long as it's information, nothing is safe from me," she answered simply "I am the foxhound."

Maria tilted her head to the side, feigning confusion, but didn't pursue the topic further. There was something equally as interesting she wanted to heat about.

"Why didn't you wait and see if we would invite you first? At least you wouldn't give yourself away this easily."

"I had to take the risk," Miki shook her head "I needed this excuse for all of us to meet one last time before we're all torn apart."

Maria recalled the eyes with which Miki had looked at Hinagiku, and her mind started connecting the dots.

"So," the maid spoke after a second of pause "what are you going to do about it?"

Miki turned away from Maria as if she had lost interest in the conversation. For a long while, she just kept quiet.

"Nothing," she finally muttered in response "I'm too much of a coward to make the first move," she stood up and started walking to where Izumi and Risa were sitting "Even if it means I lose by default."

Maria's eyes followed the girl's retreating back. And she wondered. Didn't the same apply to herself?

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"...till death do you part?" the priest finished the question. This was usually nothing but a formality and a chance for the bride and groom to express their feelings, but in the case of those two, the 'in sickness and in health' was indeed doubtful.

The ring of Nagi's cell phone interrupted any potential response. Nagi tapped her foot in irritation, whipping the device out from her pocket. And God save anyone with something to say against there being a pocket in her custom-made dispensable wedding dress.

"Yes?" Nagi demanded.

The priest blinked at her. Was that supposed to be her response It wasn't her turn to speak yet, though. The bridegroom waved at him to play along just as Nagi turned her back to them to concentrate on the phone call.

"Sakuya," Nagi acknowledged "I didn't invite you? Of course I didn't."

Nagi moved the phone away from her ear as the speaker exploded with Kansai-ben flavored profanity and threats.

"You wanted photos of me and Wataru for blackmail purposes, right?" Nagi deadpanned.

The sudden silence on the other end of the line was all too telling. Nagi felt a vein popping out on her forehead. She cut the connection without further ado.

She returned to the 'task at hand' with full determination to have it behind her as soon as possible. But she only found Wataru and the priest staring at her expectantly.

"Well?" she urged them "What's with the vows?"

Wataru coughed and developed a sudden interest in the floor.

"We're at the 'kiss the bride' part."

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"Fine, have it your way!"

For all her effort to sound tough, Yukiji was obviously the defeated side in the quarrel between the Katsura sisters. With a single tear in the corner of her eye, she bolted to the nearest exit.

She opened the door by ramming it with her shoulder. Her hands were occupied with the bottles of high-class sake she had snatched off the table. If Hina wouldn't let her invite others to join the fun, Yukiji would take care of the babies in her arms on her own.

Her hurried steps brought her to the mansion balcony, a fang of pure white stone protruding from the building proper. This viewing point towered over the nearest forest trees, providing a perfect picture of the vast sea of green surrounding the mansion. Between the building and the forest, there were several puddles of color scattered around the mansion grounds. Those were the remains of the gardens the mansion had boasted in its better times.

Yukiji placed the bottles on one of the tables set out evenly across the terrace. The furhiture was white as well, but it was covered with dust and dirt from tears of disuse. Yukiji grabbed one of the chairs placed upside down on the table and flipped it over. She seated herself and crossed her legs, reaching happily for the corkscrew.

She would actually miss seeing those kids, she thought before her mind wandered into more zany territory. She followed the fluffy clouds as they drifted lazily through the clear blue sky. The sun generously shated its warmth, and Yukiji considered resting her eyes for just a second...

And then, she saw something that made her blood run cold.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"Tango One, everything clear."

"Tango Two, clear."

"Copter Team here, lagging behind you, but all clear."

"Alright Tango One, Tango Two, maintain your course. Target within range in one."

"No problem, it's like hitting an elephant eith a baseball ball. We'll blow it to pieces in one run."

"Don't get cocky, Tango One. This might be a test, but the prototypes are worth more green ones than your ass."

"Copy that, Tango Star. You better be recording this, One."

"Recording equipment in order."

"Target in sight!"

"Locked on it. Permission to fire those babies?"

"Granted."

"Bombs away! Burn baby, burn!"

"This goes on record too, Tango Two."

"Like you can stop me from saying what I-"

"My God!"

"What is it, Tango One?"

"Launch successful, what the hell is wrong, One?"

"Target visual... there is... there is somebody moving down there!"

xxx


	7. Forever Scorched Ground III

xxx

_Five years before Aegis_

xxx

"Tango Two, movement on visual! Stop it!"

"Negative, Tango One, no movement detected."

"Tango One, Tango Two, confirm destruction of target."

"Sir, there were people below!"

"Save that for the mission report, One. Confirm completion of mission objective, Two."

"Impact confirmed. Waiting for smoke to clear to confirm destruction of target by visual."

"Make a circle over it, Two. Copter team, prepare to land regardless."

"Will do."

"Sir, the fire spread to the forest! The blast radius is... What kind of weapon did they give us?"

"Save your comments, One. This is your last warning."

"Sir! Target area visible. The fire is everywhere."

"Confirm target destruction, Two."

"Sir, this is... the building-"

xxx

**Chapter 7**

**Forever-scorched Ground (III)**

xxx

The girls had been playing cards, for lack of a better activity to occupy themselves with in the time it took Hayate to find Nagi. Not even Maria had a clue where the girl had gone off to. But who could blame the young Sanzenin heiress for some wedding jitters?

So this was just an innocent game of cards between girls with various degrees of acquaintanceship. There was no reason for this competition to turn into a brutal clash full of deception and ruthlessness. Which was exactly why one bored Hanabishi Miki decided to make that reason on her own.

"Whoever wins this one," the blue-haired girl commented dispassionately "gets to be roommates with the butler tonight."

The temperature in the room plummeted. Miki threw a bored glance at the people gathered around. They responded with fake, nervous smiles and fiery glares. Nobody voiced assent. But nobody mentioned the obvious reasons why the idea was flawed, either. The mansion had enough rooms for a party many times the size of their group. The butler in question would object to the idea the moment he caught wind of it. The girls and young women buried those simple facts deep under an avalanche of silence.

"I think I'll just deal and sit this one out," Saki volunteered, eager to escape the building intensity. She would never do something as improper as sleeping with that good-for-nothing butler.

The maid reached for the cards before anyone could protest. In a way, this meant they had all unanimously agreed to the terms of this fight. Five pairs of eyes drilled into Saki as she nervously shuffled the deck. She repeated the same motions over and over. It was better to overdo it than face accusations of cheating later on - who knows if those would end with words only.

Satisfied with herself, Saki passed the deck to the girl sitting next to her for cutting. A shadow of relief appeared on her face. On the other hand, the pressure around them intensified tenfold. Because the one happily cutting the deck was none other than Saginomiya Isumi.

Hinagiku secretly gritted her teeth. She knew trivial matters like luck were meaningless in front of the young priestess. Hinagiku had seen, again and again, the world seemingly realigning itself into a 'miracle' to conform to Isumi's wishes. Was this a battle for a chance with Hayate? No, from the moment Isumi's hand touched the deck, this was nothing but a cruel farce. Those petite hands were in no way different from iron shackles of fate closing all around them.

_No! _With brute force of will, Hinagiku broke through the illusion of despair imposed upon her. Her hands turned into clenched fists. What was that about fate? Hers was a determination that could break through any and all divine fetters. If the miracles of gods themselves stood in her way, then all the better - she would beat them all down and prove once and for all there was nobody who stood above her.

Maria watched Hinagiku's expression from the corner of her eye. The maid was confident in her superior ability, but also aware that both Isumi and Hinagiku could be dangerous: the priestess because of her lucky draws and the Hakuo representative because of pure relentlessness. Still, neither of the two girls was infallible. Isumi was too placid, Hinagiku too intense. If Maria could manipulate their emotions and trick them into making a single mistake, victory would be within her reach.

Ayumu, on the other hand, was too used to being in the company of people beyond her level to be fazed by the situation. She just made sure once more that the ace hidden in her sleeve was not visible to the other players. What? Fair play? The way those people could play should be considered cheating, anyway. She deserved the handicap, Ayumu told herself.

Izumi didn't take things as seriously as the other girls. She kept on her usual beaming smile. But that didn't stop her from kicking Miki under the table in a silent plea for support.

Isumi finally drew her hand back, the upper half of the deck firmly in her grip. The priestess gazed at the cards softly, as if questioning her choice. Her face an enigma, she reached out her hand to return the cards to Saki.

At that very moment, a cold, cold wind swept through the room. The playing cards fell onto the table in a series of quiet taps. Isumi spun in place, soundlessly, a flicker of light filling her hands.

And before any of them realized what was happening, a tremendous quake threw them off their feet.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

There was no time for Yukiji to panic. The feeling which overtook her at first was a cold, distant kind of fear. There was something ominous, that gleam in the distance, the sudden whistling sound, and it put her on edge. But there was no chance for her to identify the source of that uneasiness. She merely tensed, her face, her body and her grip on the bottle of sake.

It didn't matter. The first missile impacted and undid everything. There was no bottle in her hand. There was no chair under her bottom, no ground under her feet, no gravity to hold her down. For an odd moment, Yukiji was free from it all.

And then, a flare of pain as her body flattened against the stone wall. It didn't last - the pain dimmed along with the sights and sounds around her. Yukiji's body slid limply to the floor.

She took in the impressionist painting stretching above her. Smudges of flame framed the sky, like a hanging garden losing its petals and letting them fall slowly on the appreciative Yukiji. What held up those fiery flowers were hundreds, thousands, Yukiji couldn't count - they blurred into each other, a whole army of luminous soap bubbles. It made her think of the distant times of her childhood.

And then, unexpectedly, blotches of gray flew in from the side, dirty snowflakes spinning crazily in the air. For a moment, Yukiji thought their shapes were much alike some of those plane models Kaoru collected. But the resemblance vanished the moment those shapes collided with the bubbles, exploding into a shower of dozens of tiny parts.

The thought of Kaoru made her want smile, but the muscles of her face felt too tired to move. With this dreamlike scenery surrounding her, Yukiji slowly closed her eyes.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

The walls around them groaned like a shelled walnut about to be crushed and the tremor which shook the room was powerful and unexpected enough to jive Hinagiku no chance of keeping her balance. As she fell to the floor, her body went into a half-roll through force of habit.

Her mind caught up to what was happening only a fraction of a second later. The unusual occurrence made her think of only one thing - an earthquake. Unconcerned with her own safety, Hinagiku analyzed the situation at hand as quickly as possible. The people here were all her important friends. She had to get everyone away from things that could fall over, gather them under the table and check them for injuries.

But her train of thought was derailed before it could kick into high gear. Her eyes followed the spiderweb of cracks which had formed on the floor in the short moment her attention was diverted. Hinagiku did not have much experience with either earthquakes or collapsing buildings. Despite that, she immediately understood that what she was seeing right then was something else entirely.

The cracks formed not a disorderly mess of on an ordinary broken surface, but an intricate inward spiral. The pattern appeared to be immaculately measured, the distance between the spiral's levels decreasing gradually, and there were elaborate but unrecognizable symbols lining the path leading to the center.

Hinagiku was not surprised to see the Saginomiya priestess standing in the heart of the runic carving with a tiny circle of ghostly light directly under her feet. What made Hinagiku worried was the sight of the priestess's hair quickly losing their color and turning as white as snow. Hinagiku's confidence that this was something they could still handle died along with the dark hue of Isumi's hair - Hinagiku had seen the younger girl like that on scarce few occasions, and always in times of mortal peril.

"Isumi!"

Hinagiku leapt to her feet with a cry of alarm. She shortened the distance between them in two quick jumps, but stopped before coming close. She bit her lip, torn between confirming the safety of her comrade in arms and not disturbing the iridescent sigils on the floor.

As if in answer to her doubts, the light of the magical spiral dies out instantaneously like the light of a candle being blown out. Along with it, Isumi wilted like a dying flower, her legs giving in under her and her eyes losing focus. Her body crumpled to the ground.

Before Isumi's head could hit the floor, Hinagiku was there to catch her.

"Isumi!" she cried again.

The priestess was limp in Hinagiku's arms. Her lips seemed to quiver minutely, but they produced no sound. Hinagiku tried shaking the girl, but to no effect. Her mind came up blank with what to do next.

"Bring some water!" she yelled to nobody in particular, scrambling for anything she could do to help.

"I'll go," Ayumu volunteered as she picked herself off the floor, but her voice betrayed more worry and confusion than confidence.

"I'll find a towel," Maria added.

"**Don't go!**"

Hinagiku was the one most surprised with her own outburst. Only at this point did she realize how far she had let panic take over. She cursed inwardly, ordering herself to get a grip. If there was something around capable of putting Isumi into that state, Hinagiku couldn't allow any of the girls to separate from the group.

But before the girls could decide on a course of action, a new sound reverberated through the room.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Three of the Sanzenin security guards moved in a file to investigate the corridor they had gone through not twenty minutes before. Shards of glass crunched under their feet with every step. They kept their hands on their guns, safeties on but ready to be released at any moment.

"East corridor appears passable... but it's a horrible mess," one of the agents reported into his microphone set "Any news from base?"

The other two watched him hopefully as he listened to the response. But the agent only shook his head.

"And the jet pilot?" another negative reply. The agent frowned in dissatisfaction. He turned to his colleagues.

"They won't be able to keep the fire on the west side under control. I don't like it, but we'll have to evacuate lady Nagi through here. Rendezvous with the other guests is of secondary importance."

Just as the others acknowledged his orders, they heard a group closing in on them from one of the corridors leading inwards.

"Speak of the devil." the agent who had previously handed out commands commented "A change of plans, then."

He moved away from his companions, peeking over the corner into the connecting corridor with one hand on the wall.

"Hey, you!"

What answered him was a whistle-like sound. The other agents jerked in surprise. Something flied past their leader's face at an alarming speed, impacting the wall behind him with great force. The leading agent seemed to slump in surprise, too, throwing himself against the wall. But as he slid down to the floor and fell over, it became obvious there was more to it than mere surprise. Because at that moment, the two agents only saw one soulless eye looking up at them, the other one gone along with half of their comrade's face.

For just a second, the two agents thought if this was some kind of joke or bad dream. They thought if they should run to the fallen man's side or run away.

That one second was what cost them their lives.

xxx


	8. Forever Scorched Ground IV

**AN: **Welcome to the newest installment of Crest. Thank you to all my readers and a special thanks to templar132, Selyram and Third Class Otaku for sharing their comments. Without further ado, enjoy.

* * *

xxx

_Five years before Aegis_

xxx

**Chapter 8**

**Forever-scorched Ground (IV)**

xxx

The door to the dining hall burst open, letting the shadows from the corridor surge into the room. But the darkness shifted not with the whispers of undulating water, but with violent clangs of metal and the stomping of heavy boots.

The chandeliers on the ceiling were all turned off, depriving the room of its only source of light. When the men clad in black spread in a row in front of the entrance, their robust silhouettes were clearly visible on the square background of light slipping in from the corridor. They, on the other hand, were not be able to easily discern anything within the dim room.

On of the men reached for the light switch, only to find it torn off and inoperable. They scanned the room carefully, keeping their guns ready to shoot at the slightest sign of movement. Despite the silence and darkness, there was no illusion that the room was empty.

In the middle of the room, there was an overturned table lying conspicuously on its side with towers of chairs behind it and on its sides. A white cloth hung over that table, tied with another piece of cloth and then another and another, forming a spiderweb of white on the floor. Where the light from the corridor reached, various snacks could be seen littered all over. But what anyone entering the room would notice first was the stench hanging in the air. It resembled the smell of a shady pub, a place where nobody cared to clean the booze spilled on the floor.

The group was about to rush in to secure the location and drive out whoever was hiding behind the table when the squad leader raised his hand to halt them. He surveyed the room warily. The more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed to him that this whole setup was a coincidence. With all the crunchy food covering the floor, the people hiding in the room would know exactly when attackers came close. But if the other side had weapons, they would have already used them without permitting entrance into the room, so this was not the case. On the other hand, they had made the effort of disabling the lightning in the room. What did they want to hide?

Then it hit him. What were the pieces of cloth tied together for? Where did the horrid smell come from? What if they drenched all of the cloth in flammable substances and spilled more of the stuff on the floor? If this was the dining hall, the kitchen was sure to be somewhere nearby. With enough imagination, they could find the resources for that. If that was what they did, then, with a single match, the whole room would become an inferno the moment his squad entered within range. Either way, even if they didn't get caught in the flames, it would no longer be possible to get to the people on the other side. But was that even possible?

Using fire for defense was a reckless idea. Even the act of setting up a trap like this carried a lot of risk. If they actually made use of it, it would be suicide. They wouldn't be able to escape the flames themselves. The smoke and fumes would choke them to death. Unless...

Unless there was a second exit to the room. Even as his eyes slowly got used to the darkness, the squad leader couldn't see the far end of the room. But it was a sensible assumption that there was another door in a room like this. Servants would normally use a separate entrance to deliver food, while the main door was reserved for the guests. The existence of two exits was a necessity for this trap to work, but it also compromised the room as a defense position.

He gave two of his subordinates the sign to surround their enemy. The two glanced at him in confusion, but understood when he pointed at the corridor behind them. They retraced their steps as quietly as possible, and then broke into a dash once they were a safe distance from the room. The squad leader kept gazing at the improvised barricade. Now time was on their side. But if those people were desperate enough to try tricks like these, it was impossible to predict how they would behave. He was left with only two more people here. Things could quickly get out of hand if somebody became impatient. He had to keep their attention occupied.

"People behind the table!" he yelled "This is your chance to surrender quietly!"

The darkness swallowed his yell, answering only with silence. They waited uneasily for any kind of response, or even a sudden attack. For a moment, the squad captain fancied the idea that there was indeed nobody hiding behind the furniture. They might have abandoned the trap after setting it up or found a way to activate it from a safe distance. But what broke this chain of thought was the tiniest shuffling noise.

No matter how insignificant the disturbance was, it could be heard perfectly in the absence of any other sounds. The attack squad tensed even further. There was no longer any doubt that there was somebody hiding behind that table. And, as heavy seconds trickled one after another, it became obvious those hiding would not willingly leave their cover.

"We'll negotiate!" with no warning, a female voice reached them "I'll come out if you don't shoot!"

The squad leader was somewhat taken aback. The girl had announced her intentions in an unnecessarily loud voice, but it did nothing to hide the nervous edge in her words. In the first place, if a young girl was chosen as the representative, who could be hiding with her? If all the targets here were defenseless civilians, it would make his job easier. But that made no sense – would children set up this kind of barrier on their own initiative?

"Keep your hands on your head and come out! We won't shoot!" he yelled back.

He would have no qualms about going back on his word and shooting his enemies during negotiations. But under these circumstances, a single bullet could set the whole room ablaze. Their objective was not random destruction. They would shoot and retreat when it became necessary. Until then, he could gather information.

They watched the girl emerge from behind the table with her hands in the air. Without light, it was impossible to precisely judge her features. From her size and figure, the squad leader guessed she could be about twenty. He gave her no chance to speak.

"State your identity!" he could keep the girl under pressure for the minute it would take his subordinates to surround them.

"Ni-nishizawa Ayumu!"

Neither the name nor the face had come up on the briefing. The girl was of no importance to the mission.

"State your numbers!"

"Six people!"

"State the names of your companions one by one and have them stand up with their hands up as you do so. No unnecessary moves."

Nishizawa turned her head to look at her friends. Having received their wordless agreement, she nodded and faced forward again.

"Segawa Izumi!"

The named girl stood up, a nervous smile on her face.

"Asakaze Risa!"

Asakaze maintained a composed face and held her head high.

"Hanabishi Miki!"

Even as she obediently held her hands up, Hanabishi seemed not to be particularly bothered by the predicament she was in.

"Kijima Saki!"

The woman seemed to be dressed in a maid outfit. She whimpered quietly when standing up and kept her head lowered. She had to be slightly older than the girl calling their names.

"Saginomiya Isumi is wounded and cannot stand up on her own," Nishizawa yelled, apparently finishing the list.

The squad leader recognized the Saginomiya girl as a relative of their target. Everyone else here was a random casualty. Too bad, then.

"And," Nishizawa resumed unexpectedly "Katsura Hinagiku."

The moment that name left the girl's mouth, the squad leader heard a soft thump, followed by the sound of a gun falling down to the ground right behind him.

He spun around to face his men. What he saw instead was the form of a beautiful girl mid-jump over the crumpled body of one of his subordinates. Her hair spread in the air like the wings of a proud bird and she descended upon his other subordinate, a long black rod in her hands in place of a claw. This refined hawk fell upon its prey, and it was over in an instant.

The leader leaped back. Even if he was partially exposing his back to the group barricaded behind the table, his instincts screamed that the person standing before him was more dangerous than all of them combined. She had taken out two men in a matter of seconds and approached them from behind completely undetected. Was she so skilled a predator, or had all the shouting back and forth he had engaged in with the Nishizawa girl helped conceal the sound of her footsteps? Either way, the tables had been turned on him.

He trained his gun on the female attacker. Part of him wanted to pull the trigger immediately and get rid of the biggest threat. But he was alone now. The moment he pulled the trigger, he would have to fight to death with at least seven people, if no more were coming. The psychological advantage of his possessing a firearm was the last thing that could let him keep things under control. All was not lost. If he could just hold out until the two men arrived from the other side...

"Stay as you are! One move and I'll shoot!"

The mysterious girl had her side to him, her sharp eyes watching his every move. The light streaming in from the corridor illuminated her pink hair, but her face was obscured by the shadows. The rod in her hands was thick with rounded edges and a blunt end inadequate for a weapon, but her grip on it was steady as she kept it raised an inch above the floor. She was a perfect mix of beauty and menace, a contradictory being out to get him. At this distance, he thought, she couldn't reach him fast enough; from that position, she couldn't launch a successful blow.

Which was why he couldn't comprehend that step, the spin that brought her from over there to straight in front of his face. He didn't realize when his gun was sent flying from his hands; he didn't know which direction the final blow came from.

There are things in this world that man was not meant to understand.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

**"Go!"**

Nagi burst forward with all the strength left in her legs. One step. The smoke gradually filling the air made her eyes sting, making her sight blurry with tears. Two steps. Her torn-up dress still found new ways to impede her movement, strips twisting around her legs and nearly tripping her up. Three steps. Her chest burned with every shallow breath. Gunshots.

As if the sounds of the barrage were a pre-established cue, Nagi lost her footing and fell over face forward. Her momentum carried her sliding across the floor. Her chin scraped against the tiles. Dust stuck to her face.

When a pair of arms pulled her up and thrust her against the wall, she realized she had made it. She blinked to clear her eyes and looked back at the short distance she had just bolted through. The stretch of about three meters had seemed to go on endlessly, a tunnel with no light waiting at the end. Now that she had overcome it, the illusion was gone and she saw clearly that it was no more than a few steps.

Her body rejoiced that it was all over. She didn't have an ounce of strength left to spare for another dash. Forcing herself to move would kill her as surely as any of the bullets that had just whizzed above her head could.

But that shallow relief was overshadowed by a growing feeling of despair. There would be no more escaping. The storeroom they had reached only had one exit. They had nowhere else to fall back to – half of the connecting corridor had collapsed from the rampaging flames. Their enemies, whoever they were, had pushed them further and further with no mercy. The assailants were neither well equipped nor as well trained as Nagi's bodyguards were, but their numerical advantage had decided the outcome before the battle had truly began. Dressed in black and with faces covered by masks, the phantoms advanced relentlessly, paying no attention to any of their downed comrades.

"You alright?"

Only now did Nagi realize that the person holding her and trying to get her to regain her senses was Wataru. She looked up at his face. All right? She saw the perspiration on his skin, his eyes reddened from the smoke and his chest heaving with every uneven breath. This wasn't what she'd call all right, and she had no doubt she looked worse than he did.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she finally replied.

An empty clip landed on the ground near them as Nagi's bodyguard expertly reloaded his handgun. The agent looked at his last remaining colleague with a face of stone, his eyes hidden by sunglasses.

"I'm out. This is the last one."

The other agent nodded once in response. It was the same for him. They had fared well so far, taking out twice as many of the enemies as they suffered losses, but this was the end of the line.  
They could no longer fall back or find new cover. They were almost out of ammunition. Four of their comrades had already fallen, along with the priest who was with them. In this war of attrition, their enemy's superior numbers had decided everything.

"Tachibana-sama," the first agent urged "please hide Nagi-sama in the room."

Wataru nodded and grabbed Nagi's arms roughly, paying no heed to her cries of protest. The two entered the room which might have served as an office in its better days. The first thing to meet the boy's eyes was a bulky wooden desk majestically guarding the rear wall. Wataru circled the furniture with Nagi in tow and forced his now-wife to the ground. Nagi was slender enough to fit into the empty space where the person sitting at the desk would normally put their legs. If she hid there, she would not be visible from the entrance to the room. There was even the possibility the assailants would overlook her if they did not search the room thoroughly.

"Stay put!" Wataru yelled at her, having to raise his voice over the noise of gunfire. Without waiting to see if she would comply, he turned around and ran back to the door.

He burst into the short passage connecting the room with the corridor only to see masked faces emerging from around the corner. Before he could so much as stop himself, there was a gun pointed at his face. His body froze, his brain refused cooperation. _I'm going to die_, that single thought replaced all of his consciousness.

The shots rang out, and Wataru went numb. He was dead. There was no doubt about it. Fresh blood splashed all over his face, mixing with his sweat. He fell to his knees. But it didn't hurt.

It didn't hurt! As his hands hit the floor, his stupefied lungs went back to work. The one precious gasp of air brought him out of his stupor. The blood on his face was not his. Its owner's body was right next to him – one of Nagi's agents. The other one was still alive, crouched against the wall and shooting at any attacker within sight.

Wataru's hand shot out on its own, groping around and finding its grip on the dead bodyguard's handgun. He raised it just in time to see a pair of black masks entering his line of sight. His arm shook. His sight blurred. He wouldn't have known how to release the safety had it been on. But his targets were less than three steps away. He pulled the trigger, shocked at the recoil he felt for the first time in his life.

The bullet hit the wall behind their attackers a split second before one of the masked men had his neck torn apart by a well-placed shot from Nagi's bodyguard. The remaining masked attacker returned fire as wildly as Wataru had.

Wataru didn't wait for his hands to steady before releasing another shot. The shower of bullets stopped and the masked man flinched, apparently hit. Not letting up for a second, Wataru pulled the trigger a third time. The handgun clicked on empty. The cold hand of terror grabbed at Wataru's heart once more. And than the masked man crumpled to the floor. The previous shot had hit in the eye. It was lethal.

Wataru turned to his last ally to share his momentary relief. But he only saw the other man lying limply on his side, a large puddle of blood steadily spreading below him. Once more violently brought back to reality, Wataru leaned forward from his kneeling position to secure one of the guns the masked men had dropped. His retreating hand was followed by a series of shots from deeper down the corridor before it returned to safe cover behind the wall.

When he heard footsteps coming from behind, Wataru nearly opened fire on reflex. Nagi probably owed her life to the last bit of self-control the boy still retained.

"Stop it!" the heir of the Sanzenin screamed.

Wataru stood up and rested all his weight against the wall. He looked down at Nagi. To think there had been a time when he and Nagi were the same height. He felt the urge to smile at the memory, but the muscles of his face had somehow become too stiff for that. Why was she looking at him with such fear in her eyes?

"The newlyweds never die, you know," he joked in a trembling voice "We're not like those unnamed characters nobody cares about."

Nagi averted her eyes. She saw the blood seeping into her pure-white wedding shoes, tainting them irrevocably. It was the blood of men whose names and faces she knew very well. Her hands tightened into fists.

"Stop it," she pleaded "If we barricade ourselves in the room, Hayate will come for us in time! I'm sure of it!"

Wataru closed his eyes and let out a sigh. For just a second, he seemed to relax. His hands stopped shaking. But he would not let go of the gun he held.

"Just like you are," he whispered "maybe Saki and Isumi are out there, waiting for me," he sent Nagi a smile "Sorry about this."

Wataru spun around the corner, straight into the hell of bullets awaiting him.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Hinagiku dumped two of the masked men onto the pile for a total of five.

"I took those two out in the corridor on the way here," she explained briefly "Thanks for distracting the guys here, Ayumu." Ayumu nodded weakly, not sure how much she had actually accomplished, but greatly relieved her task was over.

"Wow, you're good at it! " Izumi's voice rang cheerfully "You must have experience with bondage, Saki-san."

The blushing maid wordlessly moved onto tying up the remaining two captives.

"You're one to speak, Izumi," Asakaze Risa commented dryly "after you turn out to be a closet pyromaniac."

"Any good daughter can do this much, right? " Izumi answered with a questioning smile.

"You've used up all the good booze, though, Izumi," Miki made a ruse of scolding the girl before turning to look Hinagiku straight in the eye "Yukiji-sensei will not be happy."

Hinagiku picked up on the message clearly and gave Miki a harsh look. Miki didn't seem to care at all. Her impassive stare took on an implacable, defiant quality and slammed into the other girl without holding anything back. Uncharacteristically for her, Hinagiku was the first to falter.

"All right, have it your way," the pink-haired girl sighed in exasperation and picked up the rod she had used in battle. The others looked between the two girls in confusion, not following the silent exchange "This place isn't safe. There might be more of those guys around. We'll stick together and search for Nagi and-"

Hinagiku stopped mid-sentence. She had to. Every single cell of her being demanded it, moving without her thought, guided by a primal instinct. She spun around, recklessly losing her balance, and swung the weapon in her hand.

The clink of metal on metal could not have been more terrifying. And then came the warm sensation on her cheek as blood gushed from the tiny cut she received. She had actually deflected something. She had swung with all her might, but it had still reached her. If she had doubted her instincts for a fraction of a second...

**"Take cover!"**

The other girls were not used to receiving and following orders. And yet the raw ferocity in Hinagiku's voice had them scattering away in the blink of an eye. But not a blink of Hinagiku's eye. Her eyes were wide open. Her ears searched for the faintest of sounds.

"Well, well..."

The man slithered in from the hallway. He made no sound when walking. His body did not move when he breathed. There was no shadow stretching below his feet. Absurd. Impossible.

The moment he crossed the threshold of the room, Hinagiku understood why she was able to sense his attack. He had no presence, left no proof he existed. Nothing except for _that. _Black tendrils swarming all around him, clinging onto the door, the walls, the ceiling, the floor and Hinagiku herself, claiming everything as their own. Hinagiku couldn't see it – it wasn't real. But she would be able to sense it from any distance, that absolute and undiluted desire to kill.

"I didn't expect anyone to be able to deflect one of those," the man spoke, completely at ease "I even forgot to follow up with a second blow... How unprofessional of me."

He flashed Hinagiku a smile and, in an instant, the murderous aura was gone, as if he was only playing around with her.

"Who are you?" Hinagiku hissed out.

The man looked at her in amusement.

"You can call me Sumeragi, young lady," he gave her a mock bow "Now, I wonder. Will you have enough time to introduce yourself to me in return?"

His smile widened.

"Let us play."


	9. Forever Scorched Ground V

**Last time**: Hinagiku and the girls successfully ambush some of the unknown attackers, but their joy is short-lived, as an even more dangerous enemy appears. Hinagiku escapes his sneak attack with only a scratch on her cheek, but realizes all hell is about to break loose. Meanwhile, Nagi and Wataru get separated as the unknown assailants get closer and closer...

* * *

xxx

_Five years before Aegis_

xxx

Nagi pushed the wooden cupboard with trembling arms, gaining a few precious centimeters. Her barrier now consisted of one chair blocking the door handle and that cupboard keeping it in place. But that was it. Setting those up had drained her of what little strength she had recovered after the mad escape. She didn't have the energy left to move anything more to reinforce the barricade. It would not matter if she had, anyway. Every other piece of furniture in the room was too heavy for her to be able to move it even in her top condition.

Nagi rested her hands on top the cupboard, leaning over to catch her breath. Her lungs inhaled and exhaled air. Her heart thumped to keep her blood running. Such loud sounds. Even if she closed her eyes, the clarity of those sounds would remind her that she was all alone in the room.

A strike shook the massive door, making even the cupboard shake. Nagi took a step back in fright. Her oppressors had reached this far. She did not want to think about what that meant. She had already known it when she heard the scream a second after Wataru rushed into the corridor alone. She had already known, so there was no reason for the fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Hayate..." she whispered the name which had always given her courage.

She rubbed her eyes furiously, trying to get the tears out of the way. Her hands were dirty with dust and it only made her eyes sting more. She retreated blindly into the room, not daring to turn her back to the door. She had to hide. If she could hide and buy even a few seconds' worth of time, he would surely come. She had to believe he would.

Something exploded and hit her straight in the forehead. Nagi toppled over, gritting her teeth in pain. The attackers had quickly given up on ramming the door, opting to blast their way through with their firearms. With every shot, bits of wood flew across the room. Nagi instinctively tried to make herself smaller, keeping her head low and drawing her knees to her chest. Slowly, she crawled backwards, dragging her body with her shaking arms.

_Hayate!_

Her back hit the cold wood of the desk. Her neck straightened, putting her face to face with the impending doom.

"Hayate!"

xxx

**Chapter 9**

**Forever-scorched Ground (V)**

xxx

"Won't you come at me, young lady?"

Sumeragi beckoned for Hinagiku to come closer with an easy smile on his face.

Hinagiku bristled. Had she seen a photo of this man. She would never have given him a second thought. A plain face. Slightly above-average in height. The appearance of an office worker. His hands were empty. She could not pinpoint a single quality that would betray his nature as a murderer.

But visual impressions meant nothing. There was now a distance of about eight steps between them. Hinagiku realized this was the only thing keeping her alive right now. At this distance, she could swing fast enough to deflect anything he threw at her. She would not take a single step forward, no matter how much he provoked her. Dead men have no pride to lose.

"No sell?" Sumeragi let out in disappointment "It seems your judgment is as good as your reflexes, young lady."

Sumeragi's nonchalant smile made her blood boil. But there was no way she could get back at him. Almost no way.

"It's Katsura," he had previously questioned if she would live long enough to introduce herself. This was her answer "Katsura Hinagiku."

Sumeragi lifted an eyebrow. He met Hinagiku's gaze, trying to read her. Finally, he chuckled with a barely noticeable shrug of his shoulders.

"Very well then, Katsura-san. By the way, is that a clothes hanger in your hands?" Hinagiku just glared at him "I'd dread to face you with a proper sword in your hands, Katsura-san. It's supposed to be a sword, right? That length, just perfect for a shinai. And your stance fits, too. I take it you practice kendo? But did you chop the thing down to size with your bare hands? That's quite a feat in itself."

"Maybe, Sumeragi-san," Hinagiku interrupted him, trying to hide her surprise at how well he could see and analyze her weapon and stance despite the deep darkness "you'll tell me more about yourself instead of trying to flatter me?"

Sumeragi shook his head.

"I'm afraid questions regarding my employers are off-limits, Katsura-san. If all had gone according to plan, we wouldn't even be having this conversation," Sumeragi cocked his head to the side "How does one stop that kind of bombardment, anyway? A force field? EMP? The advance team just blinked off the radar on us, and I'm genuinely curious."

"So you're here to clean up in the worst case scenario?" Hinagiku ignored his question "If blasting this place to hell didn't suffice, your employers would just send the ugliest thing they had?"

"You're overestimating me, Katsura-san," Sumeragi replied with an easy shrug "I'm merely twenty-second in rank, a Blackbird, so to speak. Everyone here had to be expendable, you see. I do hope to jump a rank or two once I get to personally deal with the infamous Ayasaki Hayate."

"Trash like you fighting Hayate?" Hinagiku sneered "Don't make me laugh."

"Which reminds me I have a task to accomplish," it was Sumeragi's turn to ignore Hinagiku "As pleasant as this chat has been, we should start wrapping this up."

Sumeragi looked to his right, where the unconscious attackers were. Four of them were tied up, one free. Hinagiku cursed inwardly. She couldn't close in and prevent Sumeragi from releasing them if she wanted to. She could only count on them not waking up too soon. She hadn't been going easy when fighting them – even if they regained consciousness, they would not be able to fight properly. But the situation was dire enough with Sumeragi alone.

And then Sumeragi turned his gaze away from his allies and looked behind Hinagiku. She knew what he was looking at. She could only pray that all her friends were hidden behind the table. She could not afford turning around to confirm that with her own eyes. Maybe that was exactly what the assassin was counting on.

"If you're not going to expose yourself and make things easier on me, let's do it like this," Sumeragi spoke thoughtfully "Come and stop me anytime you want. Until you do, somebody dies every five seconds."

Nothing but stunned silence followed Sumeragi's outlandish declaration. He didn't mind. Seemingly oblivious to this lack of reaction, Sumeragi raised his empty hand, choosing his target.

For a moment so short that it might have been an illusion, a glitter appeared in Sumeragi's hand. That was the only indication he had drawn a weapon before the projectile swished through the air. Hinagiku strained her eyes to trace its path. But it wasn't headed for her. It bit viciously into flesh, draining the life of its selected victim.

Hinagiku's mouth opened in shock as she watched blood trickle down from the neck of one of the men she had knocked out before. A single wound, the tip of the throwing needle sticking out below the man's chin. Sumeragi didn't pause or comment. He silently counted to five instead. And then he attacked again.

"What the hell are you doing!" Hinagiku screamed, torn between outrage and horror "Aren't they on your side?"

"Cleaning up," Sumeragi muttered before taking a third life "And shouldn't you be making a decision, Katsura-san? I'm running out of targets on this side," a fourth needle went flying "but there are plenty more behind the table, right?"

Her eyes filled with the sight of this senseless slaughter, Hinagiku realized this man was not bluffing. In the first place, what protection did a single wooden table offer? Had she been asked five or ten years ago, she would have said that kind of defense was enough to stop a throwing weapon. She no longer held onto such delusions. She had already seen and experienced too much.

When Sumeragi finished off the last of his supposed comrades, there was only one question left in Hinagiku's heart. _Will I be able to protect them?_

The murderer before her graced her with a fake smile.

"Five," he counted for her benefit "four, three, two..."

A momentary glint of light was Hinagiku's only warning before the needle went flying. She would have normally thought this kind of surprise attack to be cowardly.

But she started shifting her position the moment Sumeragi's arm had twitched. Everything she had was in predicting the path of that throw and intercepting it. There was no room for superfluous thoughts.

It was not aimed at her. It would go to her left and pierce right through the wooden table. Hinagiku didn't know if any of her friends were on the needle's path or if the throw was just a feint. It didn't matter. She was taking no chances.

She planted her left foot firmly on the ground, pushing off her right foot with full strength. A diagonal downward slash to knock the needle off its course while it was still in front of her, then a pivot back to her original position. Never losing sight of her opponent and allowing herself no openings, that was her only option. The playtime was over – the attacks would come in rapid succession, she knew, giving her no time to recover.

She knew all of it. Saw it clearly in her mind's eye and moved accordingly. But something was horribly wrong.

She extended her weapon to stop the projectile. The thin piece of metal whizzed through the air like a diving bird, fast, too fast for the eye to see. This was the speed she expected. Then why? A resounding clang announced the collision. The needle clattered to the floor, bouncing repeatedly before disappearing in the darkness. But the point of impact was wrong. Hinagiku had barely grazed the needle with the tip of her weapon. The shallow hit made it necessary for her to compensate with brute strength. The additional force carried her forward, disrupting her footing and delaying her return to a neutral position. Where had she miscalculated?

The forthcoming glint of light killed that thought before it could bloom. A throw to the right, and this time aimed at her. Hinagiku couldn't make a full turn in time. She let go of the rod with one hand and swung outwards with her right hand only. Even with half the strength, she could-

Too slow, again. Hinagiku hit the needle at the very last moment before it buried itself into her shoulder. But the mistimed parry did not reflect the attack completely. The needle spun past Hinagiku's weapon, striking her hand and leaving a gash just below her wrist. Hinagiku sucked in air through her teeth. With the powerful impact of the throw and the wound on her occupied hand, it was all she could do not to lose her grip on the rod. Her stance and balance were a mess. She was wide open.

There it went – the final blow meant to take her life. The projectile zoomed towards her like lightning. She had been unable to stop hits she had been prepared for. There was no way she could defend now that she had no time to assume a stance.

A one-hit kill, and she knew it.

X

XXX

X

The masked attackers broke through the office door without pausing in their barrage of fire. Bullets sprinkled over the wall, pulverizing the paintings hung there. Tiny bits of debris mixed with clouds of dust in the air. The whimpers of the terrified girl covering in the corner couldn't even be heard over the dim.

Nagi kept her eyes shut and her face hidden behind her knees. This nightmare might end if she just refused to acknowledge it was happening. It would be alright. When she next opened her eyes, it would be to the sight of Hayate's smile urging her to stand up. She repeated those fragile hopes again and again in her mind until they drowned out the reality around her.

The gunfire did cease. The attackers realized there was no one in the room to oppose them. One by one, they entered the room through the devastated door. They surrounded Nagi with unconcealed eagerness. There was no need for so many of them to come to take care of one girl. They were just vultures gathering to enjoy their victory. The orders were clear – this was the climax of their bloody festival.

Gunshots rang out once more, stealing the momentary silence. One after another, a cruel chain tightening ever further around the last remnants of hope. And audible above the gunshots, a bone-chilling scream rang out. Nagi fell forward. Her eyes opened wide. Her lungs exhaled air. She had not screamed.

The men surrounding her stood still. It was obvious none of them had pulled the trigger. Slowly, head after head turned in the direction of the corridor where the chain of screams and gunfire was coming from.

It would stop soon. The men attacking the mansion had trampled over any resistance in their way. The bodyguards present were too few to offer sufficient resistance. Whoever had survived and was now pestering the rear guards would be taken care of within seconds. This had to be the case.

So what struck fear into their hearts was not that the sound came to be. What was truly terrifying was the rate at which it crept closer towards them. They realized that what they heard was not a single voice screaming continuously, but numerous cries of horror overlapping and replacing each other, ever louder, ever closer to their location, mixed with the desperate wails of gunfire.

The pained voices grew clearer as the source rounded a corner, and Nagi's attackers came to their senses. The leader grabbed her by the shoulder and pressed his gun to the side of her head. The others spread around the room, focusing their attention on the entrance.

The screaming stopped suddenly, as if someone had cut through a macabre tape recording. Only the slowly fading echoes of gunshots remained to prove that this was no bad dream and that whatever had broken through an entire squad of armed men would soon reach the room.

The quiet before the storm served as a magnifying glass, nurturing the horrors awakening in the hearts of the men in black. This was man's most deep-rooted fear – the fear of the unknown. It twisted every shape and sound into a monster, its creations more and more sinister with every second the silence prevailed. But one girl listened and watched intently, seeking the last ray of hope.

Something moved beside the door, a single flash of movement immediately followed by a bang. Whoever had snapped fist and pulled the trigger had also opened the floodgates of terror. Shot followed shot as bullets rained upon the damaged door, reducing it to the likeness of Swiss cheese. Even when they blew off the door hinges, even when the bullets meaninglessly pelted the corridor wall on the other side, the men in black couldn't stop firing until their guns clicked on empty.

The barrage died out. Everyone hurried to replace their ammunition. Those who had already done so tried to peer through the curtain of dust to the other side. It had been waiting. And now it came.

Rattling of rubble announced the entrance of the hellish force. Each slow and careful step resounded in the room, mocking the people within. The demon which had swallowed all their comrades in the blink of an eye would now leisurely take all of their lives.

It stepped over the threshold, heedless of the weapons pointed at it, and they could finally see its features. It was soaked in blood. Fresh crimson droplets streamed down its face, arms and body. It was impossible to tell what its hair color had been before it was dyed red. One side of its face was burned, the mark of fire trailing down its neck and disappearing behind blackened clothes. It moved with an apparent limp and breathed with difficulty. It could barely stand. But they couldn't stop it. On some level deep beneath human reason, the men in black knew they couldn't stop it.

It had already come through hell to reach its mistress. It was the butler of the Sanzenin, Ayasaki Hayate.

X

XXX

X

Metal rang against metal. Just this once, the hateful sound had a delicate sweetness to it. Even before that ringing could die out, it was joined by the swishing of yet another two currents of air.

Hinagiku didn't listen to those sounds. She didn't listen to the dull thud of the first projectile imbedding itself into the ground. All she had was an image. Perfectly clear in her mind, the imaginary needle gouged her eye. Just a second ago, she had discarded the image of metal bursting through her neck. She fought only against those images. And she swung.

Two more pieces of metal cluttered to the floor. The following pause was not merely an interval between attacks. Compared to the lightning-fast exchange so far, it seemed to stretch infinitely.

Hinagiku rested her weapon on the ground. Her legs felt wobbly. Over the last minute, it had become enough of a challenge for her to keep herself standing. There was no way she could keep a proper grip on the rod too long. But her defiant gaze never softened as it drilled into her opponent.

Hinagiku's eyes couldn't hurt her enemy. They couldn't bash his head in like she wanted to. But there were things they could take away from him.

"Splendid, splendid," Sumeragi pretended to clap his hands, but his voice was devoid of all traces of good humor "I really must ask how you managed to block that."

Hinagiku's breathing was heavy. Sweat dripped down her face. But this hardship was enlightening. One thing become clear to her. She would sooner die than falter before this man.

"You had me on a silver platter," she paused for breath after every short phrase "You delight in killing the defenseless. I saw you do it already," Hinagiku nodded towards the dead bodies of Sumeragi's supposed comrades "Impairing my movement is not enough if I can read where you'll strike well before you do it."

"Oh, really," Sumeragi clenched his fists "But if you've already realized this much, isn't it time you started begging for your life? You know you can't keep it up any longer, right?"

Hinagiku gave no reaction to his taunts.

"You can't move properly, right? If you could swing with your full speed, none of my attacks would have reached you – is that what you're thinking? But it's too late!" Sumeragi let out a low laugh, his lips twisting into a crooked smile different from the practiced one he had shown so far "You died the moment you got that cut on your cheek, you know? Just a scratch is enough for the poison to get into your bloodstream. Give it some time to spread, have your target move around a bit... Blocking those strikes got your blood pumping, right? That sure helps the paralysis spread."

Sumeragi was an empty man. He had never held anything of his own to begin with. The moment he became an assassin, he had discarded his true name and identity. Only people chained by nothing in this world could become perfect killing machines. They just had to exchange their place to return to for a place to be.

But even a senseless machine requires fuel to run. Every day, Sumeragi would open his eyelids and make his body carry out the will of his employers. He couldn't love, he couldn't hate. To be perfect, he could hold nothing. Whatever made him move had to be as fleeting as his own existence was. And he had found it, that vital force, on the battlefield.

"Come on, Katsura, I want to hear you beg."

If they feared him, he existed. If they begged, he had power. If they cried, he would lick every exquisite tear off their cold, dead cheeks. This was the only worthwhile drug there was.

"You sure talk a lot, Sumeragi," Hinagiku understood that. Because their weapons had clashed, she could fathom the emptiness behind the mask. And she would deny him with everything she had. Even if making a sly comment cost her the precious oxygen her lungs had worked in pain to absorb, she would drive the wedge into the beast's heart and twist it without mercy "Is that your plan? To talk me to death?"

There was no response. The world around her swam in front of her eyes, and Hinagiku could barely hear her own labored breathing. But she was certain of that – there was no response. Sumeragi's face twisted into a grimace so wretched it would allow for no words.

The assassin trembled and wheezed, fighting an internal battle for self-control he couldn't win, one he didn't want to win.

"What's with that look, Katsura," he chocked the words out, and, as suddenly as ever, there was steel in his hand "You won't die? You can't die?" that same glimmer in his other hand "Uncle Kazuya was the same, you know? He thought he could do anything to me. Thought I couldn't kill him. Thought I wouldn't plunge the knife into his neck and rip his skull open," one step forward for momentum "Thought he couldn't die!"

Like infernal spirits, the twin projectiles let out a grating shriek as they cut through the air, hungry for Hinagiku's flesh and blood. The frail girl wobbled forward, about to fall over even with the support of the rod in her hands. Her long hair fell over her shoulders, threatening to spill over the floor as her face fell ever lower. And then she stomped the ground.

Hinagiku had not had strength to spare to move herself forward. Gravity could do the task for her. All she had went into a sweeping slash. Her arms were numb. She couldn't feel her fingers wrapped around the rod. But she could still imagine it. Her muscles had to remember the movement she had repeated thousands upon thousands of times. This was nothing hard. Swing. Swing!

The collision was nothing but an explosion of pain. It started at her hands, which received the brunt of the transferred force of the impact, and then spread like lightning through her arms, shoulders and chest. Everything hurt. And Hinagiku accepted that pain with all her heart. As long as it hurt, her limbs were still responsive, she could still move.

The second needle slipped through Hinagiku's guard at full speed. Hinagiku had not intended to block it. From the very beginning, it would have been impossible for her to deflect both the attacks. So she just gritted her teeth as the needle bit into the side of her neck, tearing off skin, drawing blood and leaving a deep gash below the small cut Hinagiku had received earlier. But this was just a flesh wound. Had she not taken that step forward, this needle alone would have been enough to take her life. She understood, the moment both her feet found solid support again, the importance of a single step.

And then it came to her. Her mind, clouded from exhaustion and the effects of poison, filled with the light of understanding. In a single instant, the false mosaic which had obscured her eyes broke into a thousand insignificant pieces.

Eight steps. The distance which had been keeping her alive. But it was all too easy to shorten that distance. One step he had taken. One step she took. Six steps remaining.

Eight steps. The distance that had kept her alive. But the one maintaining that distance had not been her, pinned down and at the end of her rope as she was, but Sumeragi. Because he needed those eight steps as much as she did.

"Maria," Hinagiku screamed, launching herself forward "**now!**"

Until that very moment, Sumeragi had seemed a mad beast, too lost in his rage to notice anything but Hinagiku, certainly not conscious enough to notice a sneak attack from behind. But no more.

With instincts so precise as to seem superhuman, the assassin threw himself to the ground. His hair and clothes failed to keep up with the lightning-fast movement, momentarily flattening against his skin. And before they could return to normal, a wave of deafening sound washed over him, carrying with it a chain of deadly bullets. Each leaden oval teased his neck with its warmth, flying past mere millimeters above. Death was a hair's breadth away, breathing the rotten poison of fear all over him.

Sumeragi couldn't care less. He was master of death, not its servant. He identified the gun by its sound – it was one of theirs. He knew the recoil would carry the muzzle upwards after the initial round. If the first bullets hadn't reached him, none would. There wasn't a moment when he felt helpless. No, he was still the predator.

Sumeragi's hand connected with the floor, halting his descent. The muscles of his arm and torso tensed, letting him twist his upper body mid-air like a snake. The spin brought him face to face with his attacker, her figure easily visible against the corridor wall. His free hand had already drawn one of his weapons. For a split second, their eyes met, the maid and the assassin, the fear and the blood-lust, and then it was over.

Sumeragi didn't need to throw twice or even follow the path of his projectile to be sure his target was eliminated. He had thrown precisely – there was one enemy less. It was as simple as that, and his mind focused immediately on the remaining threat. He had lost no more than a second. A mere second bought at the cost of a life.

But it was a second he should not have lost. Not against Hinagiku. Step. Step. Step. Step. The girl's legs were a blur. She left droplets of sweat flying in the air behind her, unable to keep up with her charge.

They were two steps apart when she leapt, weapon ready to strike. She was fast, burning her desperation and anger in place of fuel to make her limbs move. Sumeragi was faster still, drawing another pair of his weapon of choice and attacking in the same motion. There was no way an amateur could miss at this distance. Against Sumeragi, who had repeatedly struck with pinpoint accuracy from a much greater distance, a frontal assault of this kind was paramount to a death wish. Hinagiku could do nothing but brace herself against the two blows coming her way.

One of the needles bore into her collar, lodging itself firmly under bone. The other one pierced her abdomen, sinking deep into her flesh. Blood came pouring from both wounds and more poison was injected into Hinagiku's body. But that was all right. Those two wounds were proof of her victory.

There was no pain Hinagiku could not bear. An attack that didn't kill her couldn't stop her either. Of the two blows, neither was lethal. Compared to a practiced throw against an opponent defending at one's preferred distance, precisely hitting an enemy closing in, with only a split-second to decide one's aim, was incomparably more difficult.

Now it was her turn to strike. Her makeshift sword held high above her head, Hinagiku converted the pain coursing through her body into more strength. She poured all her rage and all her spirit into a single blow and brought her weapon down.

Hinagiku's attack broke through all resistance like it would through paper. But what gave in under her strike was nothing so delicate – one by one, Sumeragi's ribs cracked under the unimaginable pressure. Hinagiku's weapon didn't even slow down as it sunk deeper into the assassin's ribcage.

The moment her feet touched ground, Hinagiku diverted her remaining momentum into a spin. With his body bent awkwardly over Hinagiku's weapon, Sumeragi was sent flying all the way to the nearest wall. His back collided with the hard surface and the sap of breaking bones resounded once more, in tune with the sound of a spiderweb of cracks spreading on the wall at the point of impact.

Hinagiku's world blurred. The poison within her permeated every muscle she moved. All the nerves in her body were fried. All her senses were drowned out by pain, but her brain had already numbed to that sensation. The effort to deliver that attack had nearly destroyed her own body. But there was one thing she felt clearly despite everything.

She was going to die. Even as the shapes around her started melting into each other and all the sounds turned into an unintelligible buzzing, there was no way she could miss the killing intent wrapping its tendrils all around her. The man whom she had just slammed into the wall like a rag doll would stand up and kill her. She knew this to be true. She had felt half the bones in his chest cracking. There was no way he could breathe. But he would stand up and kill her.

This absolute certainty was above human logic. It had its roots in primal instinct. Hinagiku's feet moved. It made no difference if she thought '_I cannot move anymore_'. Her body knew better. It threw itself forward without her consent. Hinagiku's core, the part of her that did not require 'thinking' to act, simply refused to die.

Sumeragi's hand twitched lightly. Not enough time had passed from the impact for him to have gathered his wits. But his hand moved, not unlike when he had been preparing to throw. Could this really be an attack?

Hinagiku didn't wait to find out. She struck harshly downwards, completely dislocating her opponent's shoulder blade, tearing off his sleeve and sending a shockwave through his arm that made it twist at an unnatural angle.

Warm blood splashed over Hinagiku's hair and face. But the stickiness didn't exist for her. The taste of iron on her lips did not register in her mind. She was still filled with that one sensation. She was still going to die.

Hinagiku looked up and their eyes met. Two pairs of relentless, unyielding eyes. Neither would give up until the very end.

With a fierce roar, Hinagiku slashed upwards through the wounded chest area. With the bones already shattered, there was no resistance as she flattened Sumeragi's lungs against the wall. She held nothing back. This was not about wounding or disarming. This was the thin line between death and survival.

As she put more and more strength into the blow, the rod in her hands failed to withstand the force. The piece of metal snapped into two with a pathetic cry, taking away Hinagiku's support. In her frenzy, Hinagiku barely registered the moment when she lost her footing and fell forward. There was no chance of her steadying herself. To begin with, the strength she had used to stand and swing her weapon was something beyond her limit. The moment the fragile balance keeping her going was lost, she fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. She couldn't even prevent her face from slamming into the floor at full speed.

The poison had claimed her lungs, depriving her of oxygen. She lay unmoving, but it was still hard for her to keep herself conscious. The feeling which had been haunting her for so long was gone. There was no doubt that the body that fell next to Hinagiku was dead.

Hinagiku had fought and wounded her attackers numerous times in the past, but this was the first time she been forced to kill outright. It was a small blessing her muddled brain couldn't comprehend her deed.

Gentle hands tried to shake Hinagiku awake. Voices from far away cried for her to open her eyes. Hinagiku knew she should listen to them. What had happened to Maria? What about her sister? Weren't there more assassins going after Hayate, Nagi and Wataru? She had to stand up and find out.

But the inviting darkness was already upon her.

X

XXX

X

Hayate moved slowly to the center of the room. Each of his steps resounded loudly as he stepped over the broken pieces of wood and stone littering the floor. The men in black who had had the time to reload their weapons kept them trained on the Sanzenin butler. Others were still fumbling with their guns with hurried movements. Hayate didn't seem to care.

The leader of the group took a step back to maintain as much distance from their last obstacle as possible. One of his arms was wrapped around the neck of a petite blond girl, keeping her close. He kept a gun pressed against the side of the girl's head. Now he was happy they had not shot the girl the moment they cornered her. She was the perfect hostage, a wall separating him from the demon. The girl whimpered as he pressed the muzzle of his gun stronger against her skin.

"Stop right there!" the man in black yelled "I'll blow the girl's head off!"

The attackers were certainly in the position to make demands. They were numerous and armed. They had their opponent surrounded. They had a hostage in their hands. There was no way that a single, wounded butler could oppose them. Yet the leader's demand was nothing like the self-confident tone of someone in control.

They had already started to realize it. Their target, Nagi Sanzenin, was a frail creature. The girl's guards, professional and tough as they had been, were already dead. Taking the life of one of the most important people in the country now seemed almost easy. It was a feat attempted by many of the world's best hit men countless times throughout the last decade, but none of them had ever come so close to succeeding. Why? Was it their skills? Numbers? Weapons? Luck?

That wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. Now that they saw the butler standing calmly in the middle of the room, not a hint of fear in his eyes, they understood with painful clarity. Their tragic fate had not been averted, but merely postponed.

"Gentlemen," Hayate spoke softly, but his voice carried well "Enough men have died already. Please surrender."

The group were mute at the ridiculous request. But no one was in the mood to laugh. The moment the last word left the butler's lips, a weird breeze seemed to pass through the room like an ill omen, sending shivers down their spines. A few of them could barely stop themselves from opening fire again.

"You can't move faster than a bullet," the man holding Nagi growled, trying to keep his emotions in check "If you don't want missy's brain on the wall here, put your hands on your head and turn around."

Mistress and butler exchanged glances. Stiff with fright, Nagi moved her eyes to the sides, telling him not to listen. Hayate gave her a soft smile.

"Five years ago, I thought I had to become that fast, even faster, if I were to serve my lady well," Hayate responded, raising his hands "But she taught me there are things in this world more important than power."

The men forming a half-circle looked incredulously at the butler with his arms raised in a gesture of surrender. Contrary to this sign of submission, the young man's eyes and voice spoke only of calm confidence. As seconds of silence stretched painfully one after another, it became obvious he had no intention of turning around as ordered.

One of the man on the left jumped. The movement was so sudden it startled all the companions around him. They turned their faces halfway to look what had happened, unwilling to take their eyes off their enemy fully. Panic held their tongues. Before any of them could ask their comrade for an explanation, they heard his body slump to the ground.

What was the meaning of this? Had he been unable to bear the pressure? In any other situation, they would've run to his side to check his state. Now they stared all the more intently at the butler standing calmly in the middle of the room. If he made the smallest move, they would pack him full of lead. They were itching to do so, held back only by the irrational fear of losing the only thing which gave them control over the situation. If the butler keeping his hands obediently on his head did something which could be a hint of an attack... it would make things much easier for them. It would tell them what they were fighting against.

It happened again. On the other side of the room, another man threw himself viciously against the wall, only to fall limply to the ground a second later. This time, it was too much.

"Stop it or I'll shoot!"

Hayate looked up in response to the leader's panicked threat. Indeed, the masked man's hand was trembling violently, and it would be no wonder if he pulled the trigger by accident. Hayate lowered his hands slowly in a shrug and shook his head in confusion. Or maybe it was resignation. Or maybe mockery.

"If I were half as fast as a bullet, wouldn't it be easy for me to sidestep a shot? It's not a race if you just need to avoid something," Hayate stated easily, driving the thorn of fear deeper into the hearts of those around him "But if I want to stop you from shooting... why give you the time to pull the trigger?"

As if Hayate's words were a magic key to unlock something within him,, the man holding Nagi immediately understood. Either he or the butler had to die. Now. He had to turn the gun on the monster and fire. His hand moved. This was the only way to survive.

There was a clang. The gun was gone from his hand. Where did it go? He didn't know. He hadn't seen it leave his grip. His fingers were bent in all the wrong ways. The pain didn't even have time to register. And, breathing in his face, there was the monster which was supposed to be half the room away.

"Welcome," the bone-chilling whisper swept across the room "to my _**Like the Wind: Hayate no Gotoku.**_"

Nagi saw her attacker get blown away. And then, as if on cue. The room erupted with a chain of explosions, parts of the walls blowing up with no apparent reason, a thousand more eruptions following before the debris from the first one had time to reach the floor. It was as if Armageddon had come and was contained in this room alone.

Among the resounding booms, not one was the sound of a gun going off. None of the assailants had the time to shoot, even if they forewent aiming. Nagi couldn't see the cause of all this. The human eye couldn't perceive movement so fast. But she knew.

It stopped all at once, suddenly. It had barely lasted three seconds, but no one would have guessed that from the state of the room and the bodies scattered all over the floor. And in the center of this devastation, there was the hunched form of Ayasaki Hayate.

If he looked wretched before, now he resembled a walking corpse. His clothes hung on his frame, heavy from the blood they had absorbed. His wounded leg trembled, barely supporting his weight. Nagi watched her most faithful servant, and slowly, tears began to fall down her cheeks. Were they tears for the pitiful state of her butler or tears of anguish for all those who hadn't survived? Maybe they were tears of fear she had held back before. Or maybe they were all of those.

Before mistress and butler could exchange a word, there was the sound of falling rubble as one of the masked men tried to move. Hayate had not killed any of the men in the room. Wounded horribly, yes, but not killed. If they were smart and lucky, they could still avoid dying of blood loss. This one was not smart.

Nagi turned to the survivor with a look of apprehension. Hayate also faced the tenacious enemy, but his expression was not worried. This didn't change even when the masked man fished out his gun from the pile of debris and splinters on the floor. Hayate could still blitz the man like he had once before. No matter how wounded Hayate was, as long as he was still alive, he could push himself further.

What did give Hayate pause was the man breaking out into a weak, pained laugh. Wondering whether the man had gone insane, Hayate hesitated for a second. Or maybe he hesitated because of a distant recollection, a dreadful premonition.

The downed man raised his free, bleeding hand to his face, and ripped his mask off. The face that came to view was beaten and bruised. It stretched in a maniacal smile. Nagi had never seen the man before. Hayate had.

"Long time no see... Hayate."

The look of worry deepened on Nagi's face when she heard her butler being addressed so familiarly. She felt something was wrong. She turned to Hayate.

Hayate did not look worried. Worried was too weak a word to describe his state. His eyes were dilated and unmoving, looking at something far, far away. All the muscles of his face were tense, but his mouth hung open.

"Daddy had to pay back the money invested in his dream somehow, Hayate," the man aimed his gun at the butler, keeping the weapon pointing straight with what was left of his strength "Be a good boy and keep still, will you?"

Hayate had no response. He stood shell-shocked, as if his soul had left his body. His uncomprehending eyes remained glued to the face of the man he no longer loved, but could not bring himself to hate. Suddenly, this absurd world seemed so far away. The desperate cries of a girl begging him to snap out of it were too tiny for him to hear.

With a single gunshot, everything fell apart.

xxx

* * *

**AN**: Long time no see. Thanks as always to BrazeRancor, Third Class Otaku and K0yuk1-san for leaving comments.

Chapter nine finally explains what happened five years ago, concluding the second of three parts of this story. I hope you can also support Hinagiku in the final part of her difficult journey.


	10. Calendula

Tsuchimikado Kenji stepped out of his private sauna, letting the cool night air cast its refreshing magic on his skin. The stars above started showing their faces, twinkling cheerfully even when surrounded by the eternally bright city lights.

"Please watch out for the cold, master."

Tsuchimikado nodded at the servant and accepted the robe handed to him. There was nobody else in sight. The mansion was entering night shift. Things had to be prepared for next morning and some of the mansion staff were always present in case of emergencies, but no presence could be felt on the mansion grounds. Tsuchimikado dismissed the servant and listened to the sounds of night – the buzzing of insects and the trickling of water in his garden pond.

Tsuchimikado delighted in the simple pleasures this world provided. But it would be wrong to call him a romantic. Right beneath this sensitivity, there was a sharp awareness of what it took to procure those everyday pleasures. He knew that the amount of happiness in this world was limited – gaining something meant taking it away from somebody else.

Even the silence of the night had a price. The trees lining the edge of his mansion garden had been planted so as to absorb the noise coming from the neighborhood and the busy streets right outside. But this kind of wall would not have been enough if not for the vast size of the grounds. Every meter of ground in the city center was priceless, just as every patch of flowers in Tsuchimikado's garden was a battle he had fought and won. Year after year, he made more of the surrounding shops and establishments close down and relocate, seizing his deserved space.

Somewhere along the line, he realized methods did not matter. People only followed rules where those rules could be effectively enforced. If he took advantage of a business partner, it was with full awareness that the other party would be all too happy to do the same to him in return. The preachers of this world were the true liars. If he had power, who had the right to forbid him use it? Their self-important pleas for righteousness made his skin crawl.

But it was all right. If he had to take everything they had away from them to make them shut up, that was exactly what he would do.

With a last deep breath, Tsuchimikado slid the door to his Japanese-style bedroom open. He shut the various thoughts circling in his mind away for the night. If he kept on dwelling on all the past struggles, there was no way he could sleep a wink.

Tsuchimikado kneeled down in front of a laptop resting on the floor. He pressed a button, checking his mailbox for the final time that day. Because of his connections with various newspapers and news agencies, he was privy to most information a day before it reached the general public. But right now, he had no intention of reading any of the incoming messages. He let his mail program automatically sort the incoming emails into appropriate folders. He could afford to read everything tomorrow morning. Still, it never hurt to take a look in case something unexpected popped up.

A few seconds later, Tsuchimikado was left with only two messages left in the main folder. The first one was from his mother. He glanced at the topic line to confirm it was nothing requiring his immediate attention. His mother was just making sure he was eating properly. With a shake of his head, Tsuchimikado moved on to the other email.

He didn't recognize the sender, which immediately made him suspect this was some spam which had made it through his filter. With a sigh of resignation, he opened the message.

_May 17, 2004. Asahi Newspaper Company buys out its rival company, Lavender Publishing, a fortnight before the latter's stocks double in value._

Tsuchimikado frowned at the sight of his company's name. What was this about? That buyout happened years ago. Tsuchimikado scrolled the message down, scanning the lines full of figures and short sentences.

A second later, his fingers froze on the keyboard. The frown on his face disappeared, replaced with a look of stunned surprise.

_It's a good thing nobody found out about the insider trading, right?_

Tsuchimikado gaped at the words displayed on the screen, wondering if this was somebody's horrible, horrible idea of a prank. His hands moved back and forth between his lap and the keyboard, reflecting his inner turmoil. Should he reply? Should he ignore it?

He did not sleep well that night.

xxx

**Chapter 10**

**Calendula**

xxx

"I had an appointment with the chairman, can he see me right now?"

Hinagiku smiled professionally at the woman sitting behind the desk. As expected from a chairman's secretary, the lady was smartly dressed and wore nigh invisible make-up, not a hair out of place. But Hinagiku could tell at a glance that the woman was ruffled by something – she did not look up at Hinagiku when speaking, and there were traces of angry red on her cheeks.

"The chairman's busy. It does not seem like everyone is equally concerned with appointment dates," realizing she was letting her emotions get the better of her, the secretary took a deep breath" I am afraid you will have to wait for a moment. May I have your name?"

"It's Katsura. Katsura Hinagiku."

The secretary blinked. What irritation was left in her expression gave way to curiosity and she finally raised her eyes to get a good look at Hinagiku.

Hinagiku was used to receiving curious glances from the people who realized what connections were required to get into the Diet at her age. But this was not the case now. It should have been perfectly normal for her to appear in the office of her party's chairman. She had done so numerous times before, in fact, and nobody paid her any special attention. Nevertheless, the secretary was studying her features with unconcealed curiosity. Hinagiku was at a loss as to what made her interesting enough to dispel the other woman's foul mood.

"Is there perhaps something stuck on my face?"

Belatedly, the secretary realized her behavior was lacking in delicacy. She blushed and shook her head, trying to convey that no, there was nothing wrong with Hinagiku's facial appearance. She would have apologized properly, too, but she never had the opportunity to regain enough composure.

What robbed her of the chance was the office door behind her unexpectedly slamming open. It was the sound made when somebody pushes the door forward without pressing the door handle down fully first. Normally, it was one of her duties to reprimand those forgetting their manners and disturbing the quiet of the office, her superiors or not. But she had already learned the hard way that in the case of this particular guest, it was most certainly not worth the trouble.

The noise drew Hinagiku's attention and she turned her head to the door, curious to see who had managed to get the chairman to talk with them without an appointment. But the unconcerned look was wiped off her face the moment she saw the man.

It was the one person she did not expect to meet in this place, but her eyes were not playing tricks on her – it was indeed Nakamura standing before her. Had he requested a proper visit, not only would have Hinagiku heard about it, the media would have been buzzing with theories about what the leaders of the two opposing parties had to say to each other. But Hinagiku had a good hunch what the topic of their discussion had been.

Driving unnecessary thoughts away from her head, Hinagiku fixed her expression into a frown. The odds were that Nakamura had not meant for them to meet and that it was pure coincidence she was now standing face to face with her greatest enemy. Had he wanted to catch her off-guard, there were places better suited for that than her own territory. But since they had already stumbled upon each other, she would dutifully play her part. As the old man came close, Hinagiku glared at him with all she had.

Contrary to her expectations, he did not take the bite. Passing by her swiftly and soundlessly, he did not acknowledge her presence in any way. He left the room at a brisk pace, never turning around or saying a word of goodbye. The angry gazes of the two woman followed his retreating back to the door.

Hinagiku's hand slipped into her pocket. She gripped the broken feather hidden within. It helped her calm down. It was proof showing that, somewhere in Nakamura's mind, she was already dead and undeserving of any attention. Despite all her fears and insecurities, Hinagiku knew this was the best result she could ask for.

Hearing soft footsteps behind her, Hinagiku turned around to see the chairman himself emerge from his office. He looked worn out, as if he had been forcing himself to work till late several days in a row. His aged face was marked with deep lines and his gray hair was in slight disarray. His troubled expression only grew more tired when he noticed Hinagiku. It confirmed her suspicions that she had been the topic of his earlier talk with Nakamura.

"Do come in, Katsura-san," he invited her with a slight nod "I'd like today to be over with as soon as possible."

The chairman reentered the room he had left seconds before. Hinagiku followed after him, gesturing to the secretary in goodbye. She would not mind ending things quickly herself. She did not have much to gain from that day's discussion.

The office had a cozy feeling, the chairman's personal trinkets spread around, taking away from the feeling of cold professionalism associated with a workplace like this. The sinking sun tempered the image further with its delicate rays. It was almost enough to make the chairman seem like a gentle grandfather. But Hinagiku knew that, regardless of appearances, this was a man who had successfully led the party opposing Nakamura for over a decade. She could not have relied on him if he had not been a first-rate politician.

However, the cloudy expression on the chairman's face meant there was trouble brewing ahead. Hinagiku expected nothing less if Nakamura bothered to come and bear the news personally.

"Katsura-san, you are certainly aware that the Special Internal Investigation Bureau bill goes under vote in the upper house today."

Hinagiku took a look at her wristwatch before replying.

"In under two hours, chairman."

There was no way she would not know, of course. And the chairman of all people had to realize how fixed she was on that project. He was a major player in the little war she was waging.

"I am sure you understand that the bill has been subject to much controversy, even among members of our own party," the chairman said in the typical tone of somebody trying to diffuse another person's anger before it has a chance to explode "Especially our most experienced members might feel that such a drastic proposal goes against the contributions they have made over the years..."

It would be proper for Hinagiku to nod her head and pick up on the message the chairman was subtly trying to get across. If she assured him she knew how difficult his situation was, it would be much easier for him to get down to business. But this was not the time for politeness and holding back. If Nakamura had driven the chairman up the wall, Hinagiku could not afford giving the impression she was the easier of the two to handle.

"It is difficult for the party to impose decisions on its most prominent members. You must take into account that many of them have long-standing projects and other obligations to keep in mind," seeing Hinagiku's unfaltering gaze, the chairman finally gave up on dancing around the topic "I am afraid we cannot exert pressure on the senior members in the upper house. Right now, they are being exposed to other strong incentives. I cannot believe a satisfying result can be achieved even if we force their hands. And a failure here would cost the party too much in the long run," having gotten this off his chest, the chairman immediately changed his tone "Of course, I do not intend to offend you and your associates in any way, Katsura-san. There are limits to what we can do, but we still wish to maintain the agreement with the Sanzenin and Hanabishi families to the best of our ability."

Getting the chairman to bring up the reason he should not cross her was a small victory for Hinagiku. Almost as if performing the good cop and bad cop routine on her own, Hinagiku softened her expression before speaking up.

"That is quite understandable, chairman," she allowed "You do remember the main point of that agreement, right?"

The chairman looked at her silently, thinking of a way out of this dilemma. But there was no way to escape unscathed if he did not want Japan's wealthiest family against him.

"To assure your bill has full support of our party's members in the lower house, regardless of circumstances."

Hinagiku nodded happily at his response.

"If that has not changed," she concluded "I think we can still see eye to eye."

X

XXX

X

Murasaki scanned the faces of the people sitting across from him. In their own various ways, each of them showed signs that they wanted to be somewhere else. This was a regularly scheduled meeting, something Murasaki was already getting used to, but the atmosphere was off that evening. The feeling was difficult to place. It was like the itching when an insect lands on the back of your neck, but you can not move your hands to scare it away because of everybody looking at you. There was something bad going on, and everyone knew it. But nobody would dare ask any questions in front of their colleagues.

"In light of that, and because the bill comes from a neutral party, I see no harm in giving it our support."

Murasaki listened to the man finishing his speech. He realized he remembered nothing of the subject matter. He was too busy spacing out to register any words. And he was not alone in his stupor.

Right next to those fidgeting nervously from the heavy atmosphere, there were those who looked more like they were on the brink of exhaustion and ready to fall asleep at any moment. Seeing their blank gazes trained on nonexistent objects somewhere far away, Murasaki had no doubt they heard nothing of the speech. What made him think was who those people were – many of them belonged to the higher echelons of the party. Those were powerful and influential people who would usually keep any sign of internal turmoil from showing on their faces. But maybe the problem lay in Murasaki diverting his attention into studying the faces of his colleagues rather than in any lack of discipline on the side of his betters. He would not have noticed all those details if he had been listening properly.

Murasaki could not wrap his mind around why they were all even stuck here if everybody had something more important troubling them. The meeting could easily be postponed without much harm. If the matter was confidential, the people at the top could also go and discuss things in the next room instead of keeping up pretenses here. There were only two possibilities that came to Murasaki's mind. Either whatever trouble was brewing was so bad nobody wanted to even talk about it, or this day was cursed in some way and the troubles occupying the politicians' thoughts were all personal matters unrelated to each other. Murasaki was not sure which of the two options he wanted to believe in.

A murmur passed through the room, pulling Murasaki away from his idle thinking. Nothing of particular interest had transpired – the people gathered in the room started whispering merely because the silence left after the last speaker had sat down had already lasted a full three minutes. The person whose turn it was to speak, Tsuchimikado Kenji, was as out of it as many of his colleagues. Only now, urged by a helpful neighbor, did he realize that there were people waiting for him.

Tsuchimikado rose and cleared his throat. He flipped through the papers in his hands, looking for his notes. He had probably lost track of the proceedings a good while ago, as he had to plow through many pages related to previous presentations before finding what he was looking for. But he was a man well-versed in maintaining public image – his movements were calm, hiding his confusion. When he was confident he had found the right paper, he put on a smile an took a breath.

Tsuchimikado was interrupted before he could say a single word. The door to the room opened loudly, catching everyone's attention. Who was important enough to be able to ignore the first half of the meeting, but stupid enough to come suffer through the second half of their own volition? But their jocular theories all died when they saw who had graced them with his presence.

Chairman Nakamura entered the room as if he owned it. He did own it, in a sense. He was the only member of the party who attended those meetings as he pleased, and when he came, he came to speak. It went without saying that the others were to shut up and listen.

Tsuchimikado understood this well enough. He gave a polite bow and sat down the moment he laid eyes on Nakamura. The older politician did not acknowledge the gesture in any way. He just strolled up to the head of the table, refused the chair offered to him by one of the more obliging members, and spoke.

"It appears there are still people foolish enough to take us lightly. They continue to support radical and dangerous ideas no matter how much we ask them to regain their senses. It is necessary for our party to show clearly that we are united in our opposition to the recent policy changes," not everybody there understood where Nakamura was coming from, but nobody dared raise any questions "I expect you to remind them of our strength as the second largest party by voting against all bills discussed tomorrow except our own. I hope none of you will disappoint me."

Nakamura's sharp gaze traveled slowly across the faces of his listeners as if he wanted to remind each and every individual in the room that they were not exempt from his orders. After that, he turned around and stomped towards the exit without another word.

With a few sentences, Nakamura had undone the results of all their deliberations. It did not matter what they thought or if it even made sense, they would be voting "no" all day tomorrow. The bills to go under vote that day were not top priority. The country would not change overnight because of Nakamura's decision. In many cases, their party's votes alone would not even affect the outcome of the vote and prevent bills from being passed. But did that make it any less insane? Could one man decide such things on his own and announce it just like that? And yet not a single voice of protest could be heard.

Finally, when Nakamura's back was about to disappear completely behind the door, there was a single whisper. It came not far from where the stunned-silent Murasaki sat. It was the hushed voice of someone speaking more to himself than seeking the attention of others.

"We're honestly voting against that comma correction?"

The man spoke a second too soon. He underestimated how well his voice would carry in the deep silence. For a single moment, all eyes turned to him. And then they moved over to Nakamura.

Nakamura stopped, his unmoving back telling them nothing. For a tense few seconds, he kept them wondering if he had at all heard the whisper and if he was going to react. And then he turned around and reentered the room, taking two short steps inside and locking eyes with his prey.

"Sasaki Souichirou," Nakamura identified the man without a second's doubt "You are doing quite well these days, are you not?"

Everyone threw furtive glances at Sasaki, like passers-by stopping to watch the aftermath of a car accident. But none of them wanted to get caught staring, lest they get dragged into the dangerous exchange. They realized Nakamura's question was not a question at all.

"I hear you have bought a new house. Good for you. But the loan must be quite tough on you," Nakamura went on, expecting no answers "But there is nothing a good husband will not do for his sick wife, is there? You are a very good man, Sasaki, and a wonderful parent, too. Your daughter must be proud to attend the most prestigious school in the city," Nakamura turned his gaze away from Sasaki, as if losing interest "You should be more careful, Sasaki-san, there are many ways to lose what is dear to us."

Nakamura turned around and left the room, this time without interruptions. The door closed behind him, but his presence remained inside the room in the form of a deep oppressive silence.

Murasaki risked a glance sideways. Sasaki's expression resembled an ancient sculpture, his tense muscles and tightly pursed lips refusing to let his emotions be revealed. But his face was pale, and his fists were clenched and shaking ever so slightly.

Only on seeing the state of his colleague did Murasaki notice that he himself had been holding his breath.

X

XXX

X

Hinagiku jumped into the car and waved for Johan to start the engine.

"We're done for today. Drive us home."

"Yes, ma'am."

Johan started the car and they were soon on the move. The building of the chairman's office disappeared from their sight after the first turn. This part of the city was packed with buildings to the point that the sun seemed to set faster here, its rays unable to reach the street.

Hinagiku closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting herself enjoy the atmosphere of an ending day. Various thoughts raced about inside her head, bits of data sent to their respective mental compartments. Her conversation with the chairman played out again in her mind. He was not betraying her. He was just taking steps to minimize the damage. Even if he was sympathetic to her cause, he was also an independent politician. He would gave to deal with the aftermath of her actions. And from his perspective, the likely outcome was that she would fail.

Would she? Hinagiku asked herself. Everything so far had gone according to her calculations. This was not good. Whenever she tried to gain the slightest bit of leeway, a setback would occur and bring her back to square one. She was dancing on the knife's edge. If she did anything outside the carefully-crafted plan, it was like tightrope walking without a net to catch her in case she fell. But the danger did not disturb Hinagiku. What she found more unsettling was the fact that she was not the only actor on stage. Hinagiku disliked having to depend on others, but this time it was not even a matter of pride. If there had been any way for her to shoulder the danger looming over all her associates, Hinagiku would not hesitate to make the choice. But there was not. She learned anew every day that this was not something she could overcome alone.

Hinagiku opened her eyes halfway, like a kid checking if it was okay to sleep in just five minutes longer. But even if she appeared lazy on the outside, it was already part of her being to be constantly alert. For a short moment before her chauffeur could turn his gaze away, Hinagiku caught him staring at her in the rear view mirror. Even if it happened too quickly for her to get a good look, there was something unusual in his eyes, as if she had unknowingly done something mean to him and earned his silent reproach. Hinagiku knew better than to neglect those around her and suffer the consequences later, at the least appropriate time. If there was a problem, they would just have to talk it out.

But she was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone before she could open her mouth. She fished the device out of her pocket with her left hand, taking a look at the number on the display. It probably was not something gravely important, but she had to take the call anyway.

"Hello? An unusual hour for you to call," Hinagiku could not really care less about the time people called her. The phrase was their code for when it was not safe to speak on the phone. It became redundant to say that ever since her cell phone got bugged and no calls were safe, but she still did it just in case. The people calling her now were the forgetful type, and it would not do for them to say too much by accident.

"Hello. We haven't heard from you in a while so we were thinking you might want an update."

Hinagiku blinked in confusion. Was the other side making up some secret code on the spot? Because she was quite certain she had sent them messages as recently as two days before. They had not taken the time to respond. Or so she thought.

Hinagiku decided to put the question aside for the time being, wary as it made her.

"So, how's work going these days? Any progress on that problematic project of yours?"

"That's just what we wanted to talk about. We almost thought you had forgotten all about us, and after all that nagging until last month, too."

_Last month?_ All Hinagiku's suspicions of her enemies impersonating the people on the other end to pull her tongue went out of the window. Only genuine scientists could have this kind of misunderstanding on a regular basis.

"I sent regular questions to the head of research," Hinagiku stated firmly.

"Did you?" the voice on the other side seemed genuinely puzzled "She didn't mention anything like that."

"I did," Hinagiku's tone said she would suffer no denial.

After a second's silence, Hinagiku heard the person on the other end moving, his shoes clicking on a metal floor. With every step he took, the volume and variety of the background noises increased, treating Hinagiku to a concerto of hissing, clanging and other assorted noises of machinery. And then she heard the man trying to yell over the noise. She could barely understand the words, but they did not seem to be aimed at her. Somebody yelled back in response, but the words were even more undecipherable to Hinagiku. She let out a sigh and waited for the two to end whatever conversation they were having.

It took a good few minutes, but Hinagiku's interlocutor eventually finished his chat and exited the noise zone. Hinagiku was all too thrilled to hear what he had to say after wasting so much of her time.

"Seems like she did get your messages."

"Oh really," Hinagiku deadpanned.

"So, with that out of the way, maybe I should tell you about the research."

"Maybe," Hinagiku countered in a venomously sweet voice "you should tell me how a fortnight's worth of my emails can be missed by you people."

There was a short pause on the other end.

"You addressed the head by her name."

It was Hinagiku's turn to pause before answering.

"How else should I have addressed her?"

"Snow White."

"Come on!" Hinagiku protested "It's not like-"

"She refuses to respond to anything else."

Hinagiku felt her grip on the cell phone tighten involuntarily. The poor device squeaked pitifully under the pressure.

"That's just a..." if she started talking about code-names now, it would be her breaking the rules and making the conversation seem more suspicious than it had to be "...a stupid nickname! What difference does it make?"

"Well, she says she likes it. She also asked me to remind you that you were the one who came up with the idea."

Hinagiku slammed her forehead with her palm. She tried counting to three to calm herself down. To think she had once believed it was only in manga and anime that all geniuses were also madmen.

"All right. Fine," her voice was still shaky "Just fine."

She took a deep breath and let the air out slowly, concentrating solely on the movement of her lungs. She could do this. She had faced Japan's twenty-second best assassin in battle. A telephone conversation could not be beyond her ability.

"Okay," she tried once more "tell me what progress you've made on your assignment."

"With pleasure," the man did seem happy to get down to the specifics "You might remember the inertia diffusion quandary that occurred at high angles last time..."

"Don't." Hinagiku interrupted him before he could bury her with a cannonade of technical jargon "Just give me a summary, please."

"Is that so?" the man asked with badly concealed disappointment. But it didn't take long for him to regain his vitality "Well, in that case, I have good news and bad news."

"Bad news first," Hinagiku answered automatically.

"We've done our best to keep up to schedule, but it seems likely we'll only be able to provide a prototype for when you require it."

Hinagiku was not particularly bothered. It was not even _her _request to have it ready for mass production by the specified date. It was only overeager inventors egging each other on until they lost sight of reality.

"And the good news?"

"We believe we've managed to significantly lower the probability of the energy collector's spontaneous combustion."

That one took a while to register.

"Wait a..." Hinagiku hissed through gritted teeth "That thing can _spontaneously combust!_"

Hinagiku let herself forget her manners and told her conversation partner exactly what she thought of his work and scientific achievements. It did her nerves some good and the man did not seem to mind, too used to hearing such complaints from the uninitiated_._

When Hinagiku finally closed the connection, her cheeks were flushed red. She tossed the cell phone aside and looked up. And she caught Johan staring at her again. Except now there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Hinagiku crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, momentarily closing her eyes to complete the show of exasperation. She had gotten used to ignoring Johan's presence. But she would not be herself if it did not hurt her pride that someone saw her behave so childishly.

"Okay, Johan-kun," she narrowed her eyes "What was that look about?"

Johan tried shrugging his shoulders and feigning ignorance. But both of them knew this kind of ruse would not get him far.

"Not right now," Hinagiku specified "You've been odd for a while now."

Hinagiku studied Johan's expression in the mirror. He seemed more troubled than anything else. But seeing as he had been desperate to avoid eye contact with her throughout the ride, it was obvious his discomfort was in some way connected to Hinagiku.

Suddenly, Hinagiku remembered the weird looks the chairman's secretary had given her. Was there something going on a wider scale than she thought? There was only one way to find out.

"Well?"

Hinagiku pressured him further, but Johan did not seem to know how to respond. For a split-second, his eyes went to the empty seat next to him. Perceptive as ever, Hinagiku did not let the action slip her attention. She craned her neck to see the seat and noticed the newspapers sprawled there. Her own face greeted her from one of the front pages.

It was not a particularly flattering picture, but that was probably intentional. With what appeared to be an angry frown on her face, even Hinagiku had to agree she looked kind of scary. The headlines mentioned something about her encroaching upon privacy and freedom.

But if that was the worst photo they could find, Hinagiku mused, then she was better than she had thought at keeping up appearances. Either way, it seemed her publicity had suddenly skyrocketed. Too bad it was not good publicity.

Hinagiku turned to Johan, who had noticed her scanning the newspapers, but could not do much to stop her from reading the headlines. The chauffeur decided to just keep his mouth shut.

"Is this the reason?" Hinagiku asked. After a while, she took Johan's silence as confirmation "I could read them myself and have a good laugh or two, but I'm a bit tired right now. How about you telling me the juicy bits? Or maybe you have some questions you'd like to ask?"

Johan crossed another street, his driving calm and controlled even with his boss dragging him into a dangerous topic. They would be arriving soon, but Hinagiku would probably not leave the car until he humored her. He understood her well enough to know that.

"Will that bill really make it possible to legally bug private residences?"

"Potentially, yes."

"And to freeze work at companies even before their operations have been proven to be illegal?"

"Yes, temporarily."

"And grant the bureau's head free access to private information, like health records?"

"That one's a miss, actually. It was in the first draft. But there was no way to keep that one legal with the current law."

"Are you actually doing all this for the Sakada family's benefit?"

"Haven't talked to those people much. Try the Sanzenin instead."

"So you don't have support from the oil lobby?"

"A long shot, that one."

"And no connection's with sheik Al Hazif?"

"Eh? Never heard of him. How do you write that?"

Johan took a turn and they finally left the main street.

"I have to commend the press for catching onto some of the iffy bits of my bill, at least," Hinagiku commented, sensing Johan would ask no further questions "Even if their zeal might benefit me in the end."

Johan concentrated on the road ahead. The more he heard, the less he understood. He had only known Hinagiku for a short while, but there was no way he could miss the glaring contradictions. She was a spirited young woman, an aspiring politician on the outside and an easygoing girl on the inside. Fiercely competitive, but a magnanimous victor – that was the Hinagiku he knew from their daily short conversations. He could not understand how she could unabashedly accept the vile things written about her. If she had denied them with an angry face, he could have been at ease. Instead, she confirmed the accusations with a smile on her face. Which part of her was a lie?

"How come?" Johan questioned Hinagiku's last statement, breaking the silence.

"They're trying too hard. There are as many crazy theories in there as there are valid arguments. With time, the stories will start getting more and more ridiculous, until no one can take them seriously anymore. The more I refute the absurd lies, the easier it will be to avoid the inconvenient truths," Hinagiku spoke without pausing, as if it was all something she had already thought out before "There are times when you can only win if your opponent goes all out against you. You need him strike mercilessly, without hesitation. The most powerful move is the easiest to predict."

Just as Hinagiku finished her last sentence, her cell phone rang, signaling an incoming text message. Hinagiku flipped the phone flap open and started reading, scanning the whole text in a matter of seconds.

When her eyes left the screen, they met Johan's gaze. The chauffeur's face was filled with doubt and confusion. Hinagiku chuckled quietly.

"The upper house voted on my bill just now," her lips twisted into a dangerous grin "and they rejected it unanimously."

* * *

_**Calendula**_ (**pot marigold**) - (bot.) a genus of about 12–20 species of annual or perennial herbaceous plants in the daisy family Asteraceae, native to the area from Macaronesia east through the Mediterranean region to Iran. The name Calendula stems from the Latin _kalendae_, meaning first day of the month, presumably because pot marigolds are in bloom at the start of most months of the year. The common name marigold probably refers to the Virgin Mary, or its old Saxon name 'ymbglidegold', which means 'it turns with the sun'.


	11. Anemone

Hanabishi Miki lowered the empty teacup from her lips and put it down on her platter, and the delicate porcelain made no sound. Not that Miki was handling it with such care because she cared to maintain the silence in the room or out of courtesy for her companion. There was no such need. She could make as much of a ruckus as she wanted to in her own office, and the other girl probably would not mind it, either.

"Hanabishi-san?"

Miki looked up at the other girl, grateful for the diversion but dreading what was coming next. Her assistant was a genuine weirdo. There was no telling what new problem she could come up with.

"The numbers don't add up here, either." The girl pointed at a stack of papers resting on the small round table she was working at. "The discrepancies are within the margin of error for every year, but things don't match up if you look at a longer period."

"Okay. Grab a marker and circle the parts that seem suspicious. Then get working on the next stack."

The girl kept staring at her with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Miki had a growing suspicion where this was all going.

"I-it's the 'cost reduced column on page five…" the girl offered meekly.

"Great. You'll mark that part with a marker, just like we agreed." Miki felt a deep sigh building up within her. "Right, Fumi?"

Fumi's eyes grew watery. She lowered her head, but could not escape Miki's dispassionate gaze. It was only a matter of time before she had to give up.

"I lost it!" Fumi slammed her hands on her knees and lowered her head further, doing her best at displaying her penitence.

"Lost what?"

"The marker!"

"Oh? Which one?"

"The red one!"

"Red?"

"Yes!"

"Where did you get that?"

"I… borrowed it! Borrowed it from your desk!"

"Oh? Why would you do that?"

"Because I needed a marker!"

"Why didn't you have one?"

"Because I broke it!"

"Broke what?"

"The marker!"

"Oh? Which one?

"The blue one!"

Fumi sounded more and more like she would cry with every answer. As much as Miki enjoyed a bit of sadism in her daily routine, she did prioritize getting work done. She opened one of the lock-protected drawers in her desk and took out a single green marker. The drawer was actually half-full with rainbow-colored writing utensils, all for Fumi's use. But the ditzy girl knew nothing about it. Miki made it a point never to give Fumi more than one marker at a time. Fumi would just lose one while breaking the other and swallow up twice the number as a result. The girl had serious concentration issues and a gift for screwing things up.

Miki walked over to Fumi's table and handed her the marker with a stern look. While her terrified assistant wobbled her head up and down in apology, Miki once again wondered at the walking incongruity that the girl was.

Hibino Fumi was, without a shadow of doubt, a genius. She could not operate a marker without breaking it, she often got lost on her way to and from the office, she could hardly remember what she had been doing ten minutes before, she always forgot to pay her monthly bills and hell would sooner freeze over than she would leave any red button labeled "danger" in her sight alone. She also had more computational power in her brain than a state-of-the-art computer did. She made any and all calculations twenty times faster in her head than Miki could with a database program. Fumi spotted repeating numerical patterns hundreds of pages apart. She did away with mountains of documents it took Miki weeks to analyze in a matter of hours.

Fumi was an absolute genius. She was also dim enough not to realize her own worth. The ridiculous amount of work Miki had her do was something a whole department would normally be needed to handle. Except that unlike people Miki could hire, Fumi had no idea what she was doing. She only carried out simple orders and forgot all about the day's work while eating dinner. There was no way Fumi could betray Miki or be tricked into revealing her secrets. Absolute confidentiality was a prerequisite for Miki to entrust her work to anyone but herself.

But even if nobody else knew, Miki did. And deep down, it hurt that someone completely unaware of what was going on could do so much more than her. This was the one thing Miki had to do right in her life, something she was pouring all of her soul and strength into, something she had begun knowing it could cost her her life. But it was also the only way Miki could act as Hinagiku's equal, and keep her from becoming completely alone.

On the way back to her desk, Miki could not help glancing at the calendar hanging on the wall. Every square on it was packed with tiny notes – deadlines, names and other information. Half the numbers were circled with various colors, adding to the general feeling of confusion. It was like a metaphor of the busy days she had been living for the last few years. But right then, Miki only looked at the column of Fridays circled in red.

That was the day reserved for their private meetings. At least in theory. Miki had spent that time the previous week locked up alone in the office, working on the papers Fumi had gone through that had piled up. The week before that had not been much different. Miki understood well that sacrifices had to be made at a crucial time like this, when more pressing matters could crop up at any moment.

It had been over forty days since the upper house had unanimously rejected the Special Internal Investigation Bureau bill, offering no amendments. This left them a bit over two weeks until the bill was presented before the lower house for a second vote. A two-thirds majority was necessary to make it pass – anything less and the bill would get thrown back into a locker, never to be considered again. The first time over the bill passed with fifty-eight percent of the votes. The missing eight percent they needed would not come raining from the sky.

So Miki was happy for the opportunity to get more work done. But she also realized that the burden she was carrying was still light, and that Hinagiku needed their meetings more than Miki did. Impatience and distress grow when unattended, and they lead to foolish decisions.

"Um… Hanabishi-san?" Fumi's nervous voice brought Miki down to earth. "Is everything alright? You've been standing still for a while already…"

Miki turned to hide her face and smiled ruefully. Even a klutz like Fumi could be perceptive at times, eh?

"It's all right." Miki sat behind her desk and returned to the papers waiting for her. "Would you like to hear a fairy-tale, Fumi?"

"Um… a fairy-tale?" Fumi looked at her quizzically.

"Yes," Miki replied without stopping her work "a bizarre fairy-tale I know."

xxx

**Chapter 11**

**Anemone**

xxx

Greece – the land of valiant heroes and capricious gods. It was here that the flower of philosophy first bloomed, here that three hundred men took on the wrath of a hundred nations. A place where island shores still echo with Homer's songs.

Yet the great country now paid no heed to the glory and burdens of its history, caught as it was in a spell of laziness cast by the warm mid-summer air. The giant turtles dwelling here positioned themselves atop rocks, ready to sunbathe for the remainder of the day. They needed not fear the locals or tourists disturbing their rest. All the people around preferred to seek shade, some of them allowing themselves a midday nap. Only the rays of sunlight pranced around happily, jumping from one surface to another in a never-ending game of tag.

And if there was anyone who could object to the cheerful and cozy atmosphere, it was one Katsura Hinagiku. The girl gripped the edge of the table before her as if grabbing on for life. The moment she felt the relief of finding a source of support, her unsteady legs buckled under her. Her crash-landing on the flimsy chair waiting for her was only half-successful. She felt her body veering too much to the side, threatening to topple over along with the chair, and she let her upper body fall atop the table in a final desperate bid no to meet with the floor.

The chair and table in question were set out on a café terrace. The furniture was comfortable and clean, the terrace offered a view of the glistening shore, and the parasols placed around the terrace lured customers in with the promise of respite from the blazing sun. The only reason why there were few people present to pay witness to Hinagiku's antics was that most of them were seated indoors and enjoying the air-conditioned room.

Hinagiku would soon calm down enough to enjoy those things. She would take a deep breath, savor the occasional gust of wind cooling down her skin, maybe order a cup of her favorite blend of coffee. But first, she just had to get rid of the feeling of nausea and severe shock that left all her nerves a fried mess.

She would never ever board a plane again. Perhaps it was because her head was still hazy, but she could not remember what made her even approach the flying doom-machine in the first place… No, wait. Miki. Hanabishi Miki.

Hinagiku could forgive Miki almost anything. After the dust settled on the Sanzenin tragedy, Hinagiku would have completely lost sight of herself if it were not for her childhood friend. Wataru, Hayate… and even more painfully, Maria and Yukiji. The shadows cast by the four were heavier than lead, far beyond what a single person could shoulder on their own. If it came from Miki, who helped her carry that burden, Hinagiku could turn a blind eye to most minor offences.

Only tricking Hinagiku into a traumatic, ten hour-long flight in a metal can ready to fall down into the ocean below any second, all talk about statistics be damned, was nothing minor. Hinagiku's mind filled with images of pincers, scalpels and a plethora of other torture devices, both ancient and modern, which could aid her in delivering Miki's punishment in the most painful way possible. Hinagiku's memory was good enough under most circumstances, but she was second to none in remembering her grudges.

To begin with, Hanabishi Miki had the insufferable tendency to be reasonable and calculating only when it least suited Hinagiku's purposes. Miki picked that particular flight for Hinagiku because of their connections – it was the safest way of getting Hinagiku to Greece without answering unnecessary questions or leaving tracks behind. Katsura Hinagiku was just a normal girl. Nobody cared if she got good grades in a prestigious high school or if she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when a forest villa filled with flames and blood. But that, Miki had said, would change when Hinagiku moved to seize her place at the top of the world. Hinagiku's past would no longer be her own, but a treasure trove for those looking for a hidden weakness. Hinagiku could not bring up her childish fear of heights when Miki's eyes told her how much effort went into concealing the fact that, two and half a year after the Sanzenin massacre, Katsura Hinagiku had come to Greece.

To Hinagiku, this journey was absolutely necessary. If she wanted to live through the ordeal awaiting her in a few years, this was where a miracle had to be born. She would throw a single pebble amidst the cogwheels of destiny and pray for it to fall into just the right place. And should her prayers be answered, that single pebble would one day stop the infernal machine called fate.

But she also knew, knew that fate would simply laugh at the feeble attempt. It would watch her throw the pebble and spit it right back at her face. Which was why Hinagiku needed a second miracle just so that the first one could take place – she needed for her first miracle _to go unnoticed._

Hinagiku felt her anger at Miki disperse like morning mist. In the first place, it was only intended to cover up her true feelings. The terror was always there, right beneath the surface and waiting for a moment of weakness. And now that her body and mind were exhausted from the stress of the flight, the ugly feeling struck at her with full force.

Two miracles. No matter how small a miracle, it was normally something only to be acquired at the cost of a human life. Hinagiku was asking Miki for two of those. And she knew deep down that she would have to ask for even more. Sooner or later, somebody would have to pay the price, and Hinagiku herself could only take up one space on the sacrificial altar.

The post-flight nausea gradually left Hinagiku's body. But she hated the feeling that replaced it. She was supposed to be infallible, reliable, perfect. Hinagiku herself was the harshest judge of her own shortcomings; she would impose upon herself any regime necessary to overcome them. It worked. She had become strong. She was showered with praise and admiration from the people around her. Why, then, was she still so powerless? Why was her life a string of debts she could not pay back?

Hinagiku was supposed to climb the tallest mountain, turn around, and smile at her sister to show her that it had been worth it, all the sacrifice, every day spent with nothing but a guitar, a child Hinagiku on her back and the shadow of their parents' debt. But now Yukiji would never see anything again. Hinagiku was supposed to hold her head high, find the courage to tell her first love of the feelings he taught her. But now Hayate was deaf to any words she might have for him.

What was she doing here, in Greece? What was she dragging Miki into? Was she seeking to repeat the tragedy a third time?

Movement forced Hinagiku out of her thoughts. Right in front of her face, much closer than Hinagiku would have liked, it entered from her blind spot. She did not need to think for her body to move. She had held a sword while still a child. She had taken part in countless battles against humans, robots, demons and anything in-between. And she had once paid a great price for letting a single needle get past her guard. Training, experience and battle paranoia. A combination of the three made her react on reflex even when spacing out.

One of her hands pushed hew away from the table, and her upper body bent backwards in an arc, buying her a couple centimeters' worth of distance, a fraction of a second more to respond. Her free hand shot out to intercept the foreign object.

It all happened in an instant, and yet Hinagiku's trained eyes identified the thing coming at her before her fist could close over it fully. When her mind finally caught up with her body, her reaction was more surprise than alarm. Her chair returned to a balanced position after her sudden lurch backwards, and her muscles relaxed. For a while, she stared blankly at her clenched fist.

Hinagiku stayed frozen in that moment, as if afraid to move and break a delicate balance. A slight breeze ruffled her hair. There was sound of banter and laughter from two men leaving the café and moving away down one of the streets.

Slowly, haltingly, Hinagiku unclenched her fist. She watched as the thing she had grabbed fell limply to the table. It was tiny, paper-thin, resembling a white flower petal. But it moved, trembled, on its own accord. It was a white butterfly, lying flat on the table and trying vainly to flap its broken wings.

Hinagiku stared unblinkingly at the creature's pitiful movement. She took in all the pain, all the broken dreams the tiny insect seemed to represent.

Without averting her gaze, Hinagiku gritted her teeth. She reached into her pocket and took out a disposable tissue, wrapping it around the insect and squeezing it to put it out of its misery.

The butterfly died because of Hinagiku's self-pity, because she was too taken up with fear and regret to keep her attention on what was happening around her. But this, she inwardly swore, was the last sacrifice. A silent anger burned away all the doubt and weakness that had taken root in her heart. She was angry at herself for losing control, for endangering the present by thinking too much about the past and the future. But this was good anger. It would keep her focused and on the right track.

When Hinagiku looked up to scan the veranda for a trash can to dispose of the tissue, she caught sight of a familiar face entering the café.

The woman did not look that much older than Hinagiku, but there was some severe quality to her eyes and expression that suggested the burdens of time and experience. Hinagiku was the only one following the newcomer with her eyes. With her short hair, plain clothes and unobtrusive manner, the woman attracted little to no attention even from people she passed close by on her way to an empty table in the corner of the café. Few would notice how the woman's seemingly natural step had a controlled edge to it, how she stealthily surveyed the room and moved with precise intent. Hinagiku felt the woman's gaze sweep through the veranda outside, and their eyes crossed for the shortest of moments. But the woman did not pause or give any indication she had noticed Hinagiku, proceeding to sit down and take out a folded newspaper from her purse, signaling for the waiter to bring her a coffee.

Hinagiku held no doubts that she had been noticed. And she would not believe the woman had simply forgotten her face. They had met years ago, barely had the chance to exchange more than a few words… but as short as it had been, they had also faced each other in battle. Hinagiku knew how hard it was to truly forget those fleeting moments of life-and-death struggle and adrenaline-heightened awareness. Yes, the woman was sure to remember her.

And so, as Hinagiku observed the woman once known as sister Sonia, she felt the wheel of the first of Miki's miracles spin.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

Hinagiku's feet came to a halt in the middle of a crossing. She whipped her head left and right, and then peered far ahead once more.

What surrounded her on all sides were empty streets painted gold with the blazing sun. Small houses lined side by side, no sharp turns, no back alleys, no people within sight.

There was absolutely no hiding place to be found there. Granted, Hinagiku was no master of reconnaissance. She would usually approach her foes head on, or else wait for them to come out and take their shot at her. But her eyes were as sharp as they needed to be. She would miss no signs of concealment. And she certainly moved fast enough not to get thrown off her target's tail.

And yet here she was, staring cluelessly around herself for the third time that day. It was a humbling experience, but for once Hinagiku did not entirely resent it. If there was to be any meaning to her coming to Greece, she could expect nothing less from her target.

Hinagiku paused to look around once more and confirm she was not being followed herself. Satisfied, she reached into one of her pockets and took out a small paper decoration. Expertly folded and made of top-quality paper, it was a fine piece of origami work, a crane with its head held high and wings poised to grant it the illusion of rising to flight.

Hinagiku held the paper bird delicately in the palm of her hand, curling her fingers around it slightly to protect it from being blown away by a sudden gust of wind. It was said folding a thousand such cranes could bring about a miraculous recovery. Hinagiku had once fleetingly considered folding them for her sister. But she discarded the though angrily as soon as it had come. There would be no prayer for her as long as there were still things she had to get done with her own hands.

A few seconds passed when, almost imperceptibly, the crane began to shift in her palm. To any onlooker, the movement would have looked like nothing more than wind pushing around a piece of paper. But to Hinagiku's eyes, the movement of the paper bird was purposeful. It stretched its neck as if to follow a dying scent, its wings trembling minutely in anticipation. When it finished turning, its head was pointed at the direction of Hinagiku's back, only slightly to the west from the way Hinagiku had come.

Hinagiku allowed herself a dry smile at how completely she had been mislead. And then she spun on her heel, giving chase once more. She put the paper crane back into her pocket, careful not to damage it in the process. It was, after all, a present personally folded by Saginomiya Isumi – the world's most powerful medium – and Hinagiku's absolute victory condition in this game of cat-and-mouse.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

At the end of the game of hide and seek, Hinagiku found herself on a beach. The sun was beginning to set and there were neither locals nor tourists in sight. The wind, slowly growing colder, had already driven everyone home.

Hinagiku's eyes passed over the coast, the surrounding shrubbery, and the rocky outcropping overlooking the beach. She paused to look at a small hut standing quietly atop the rocky cliff. It was the only thing which could feasibly act as a hiding place in the near area. Hinagiku pocketed the origami bird which had brought her here, moving at a leisurely pace towards the wooden structure.

At some point, the hut might have acted as a lifesaver station. But now, it showed no signs of recent use, with its walls and windows covered with a thin layer of dust and dirt. The door of the hut was closed from the outside with a slightly rusted lock pad, but it looked flimsy enough that Hinagiku could probably force it open without much trouble if she wanted to.

If Hinagiku were to guess why the hut went abandoned, she would normally bet on the reason being the hut's unfortunate location. Of course, the beach was within sight from where Hinagiku stood next to the hut's entrance. But actually getting down there would require either circling the entire outcropping, or climbing down the steep cliff. The uneven surface of the area made it difficult to walk around, and Hinagiku could imagine the rocks beneath her feet getting unpleasantly hot during the day, only to turn deathly cold at night. The outcropping was a place which naturally invited desolation, a perfect place to hide from the eyes of others.

Hinagiku walked around the hut, confirming there was nothing about it that appeared out of place. She turned back the way she came, making sure there were no watchful eyes keeping track of her. And then, in a single motion, she was on the hut's roof. Like a cat leaping from place to place, she landed softly on all fours. The wooden tiles she descended on did not let out so much as the smallest creak.

Had she come an hour later, it would probably be impossible for her to notice anything off about the roof at first glance. But with the dying sun lending the wooden tiles its glow, it was easy for her to pinpoint a place where the light bent in an irregular way, hinting at the existence of a gap between the tiles. Hinagiku fished out a thin and flat piece of metal out her pocket, inserted it into the gap for leverage and carefully pulled the tiles up. The hidden trapdoor opened easily enough, proving to Hinagiku that it had been used not too long ago, unlike the regular entrance to the hut.

She dropped softly inside. Even in the dim light, she could see from up close that there were places where the dust in the room had been disturbed. The hut was mostly empty, save for one chair, a small desk and a single cupboard. Hinagiku paid the furniture no attention, tapping lightly on the floor and soon discovering another hidden trapdoor.

She opened it like she had the previous one and revealed an entrance hole carved out in the rock. She saw a tunnel stretching out into the darkness deep below, with a ladder installed at the side to make safe descent possible. For a moment, Hinagiku held her breath and listened closely for any sounds which might be coming from within that darkness, but heard only silence. She grabbed onto the ladder and made her way down as quietly as possible.

The bottom was pitch-dark, with nothing to point the way further. As Hinagiku ran her hand over the walls, though, she became certain that this was a passage. There was a widening corridor heading inland, at first only wide enough for Hinagiku to move forward without touching the walls with her shoulders, but soon becoming wide enough so that three people could probably move freely in a row. The rock floor of the cavern was mostly even, but Hinagiku took every step with care lest she trip over any protrusions. Without being able to rely on her eyes even as they adjusted to the darkness, she sharpened her other senses.

When she felt a minute resistance appear under her right foot and disappear almost immediately after, all her muscles tensed, ready for action. The moment a barely discernible swish of air reached her ears, she was already moving her hands to protect her vital spots. She used the thin piece of metal in her hand as a miniature shield to protect her neck. The tiny clink she heard as something collided with her makeshift defense could not have been caused by anything larger than a sewing needle.

But no matter how small the sound was, it echoed far throughout the corridor. It would drown out other sounds in the milliseconds to come. Hinagiku could not bet on whether there were more needles coming. Continuing the half-spin motion she used for defense, she threw herself to the ground. Not a moment later, she could hear more of the miniature objects crashing against the walls. But there was no time for her to pat herself on the back. There were more sounds coming from deeper within the tunnel – movement of shoes on rock, the rustle of cloth – those were more dangerous sounds.

Hinagiku threw the miniature shield in her hand into the darkness ahead, basing her aim on the sounds and instinct alone. The projectile would not do anyone much harm even if it connected. It was not a weapon in the first place. But it would buy Hinagiku time enough to get back on her feet.

Surely enough, it was not half a second later when Hinagiku heard the successive sounds of her makeshift weapon being swatted away and then rebounding of the wall and ground. By that time, Hinagiku was ready for evasive action, waiting for the other's response.

But after that single exchange, the tunnel was plunged into a tense silence, allowing neither sound nor movement. Hinagiku kept her breathing shallow and silent, unwilling to let anything betray her exact position. The moment stretched, putting her nerves to the test. But it ended suddenly, with the soft click of a button being pressed.

Hinagiku reflexively squinted as a burst of light came from far ahead. The owner of the hideout was holding a flashlight pointed at the pink-haired girl, no doubt studying her carefully in an attempt to read her intentions.

But Hinagiku just smiled at the woman. With the darkness of the tunnel partially broken, she too could see the wary face of her target.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"I can't say I wanted to see you ever again, Katsura."

Sister Sonia observed Hinagiku with cold and calculating eyes. They had moved deeper into the tunnel before reaching an open cavern more than spacious enough to function as a room. The walls were shaped in their natural, irregular shapes, but there were boards placed over the floor to make moving easier and provide some protection from the cold. Sonia used a single oil lamp for illumination, but its faint light was not enough to give Hinagiku a precise idea of their surroundings. At this stage, Sonia probably decided it was best to keep her unexpected guest's situational awareness as limited as possible.

"We didn't exactly part on the best of terms, I suppose," Hinagiku allowed.

There was a time when Hinagiku's circle of friends and acquaintances was exceedingly wide and varied, including even some rather shady characters like the fake sister. But following the Sanzenin attack several years before, Nagi had made it perfectly clear that people with criminal connections had better stay far away from her or risk eating lead. Hinagiku's last meeting with Sonia before the sister was forced to flee from Japan had been a messy ordeal.

It would be no surprise if their reunion immediately turned into a deathmatch, continuing from where they left off in the tunnel. But the reason they had been able to sit down and see if there was a peaceful way out of this situation was precisely that the two had already met each other in battle once before. They were both aware that there was no telling which one of them would remain standing should it come to a life or death struggle between them. There were things both of them still had to accomplish, and neither was suicidal.

"What did you come here for, Katsura?"

"For information… and guidance."

Sonia's eyes narrowed further.

"You sure you got the right person? You should know what I do for a living."

"That's exactly the reason I'm here."

Hinagiku paused.

"I know what happened a year ago."

The moment the words left Hinagiku's mouth, the temperature in the cavern dropped several degrees.

"I think you've got the wrong idea," Sonia spat out. But that was also an admission she knew exactly what Hinagiku was talking about.

"You've faced the Crow in battle and lived to tell the tale."

"I told you, you've got the wrong idea," Sonia insisted. "I've never told anyone what went down that night. Whatever you've heard are baseless rumors."

Hinagiku remained silent, refusing to let the topic go. Sonia could not miss the stubborn glint in her eyes.

"That time, the Crow and I just happened to get the same _assignment_ from two different clients. The target was a paranoid fool who always walked around with an entourage of guards, but there was one obvious hole in the scheduling of his security. It was inevitable we would pick the same time to strike." Sonia did not bother trying to hide her intentions on that night. There was no way Hinagiku did not already know, anyway. "The Crow wasn't my target, just as I wasn't his. We only became aware of each other's existence at the last moment, when it was time to carry out the job. It was a coincidence we had to fight there."

"And you're the only one to survive a coincidence like this, aren't you?" Hinagiku pressed. "Information is deadly, and the Crow knows how to clean up."

Hinagiku saw the muscles in Sonia's face grow tense and a spark of anger, but also fear, appear in her eyes.

"I take back my words, Katsura. That wasn't a fight. Like I could win against something like that. The Crow wouldn't follow if I got in range of a camera or to a place with other people. The mission was over, and it wouldn't be worth the risk. So I just had to run down a corridor or two and it'd be over. I look back on what happened and I know it couldn't have taken more than thirty seconds. But no matter how many times I try to tell myself that, I still can't believe that hell didn't last for hours."

"Even so-"

Cutting through the air with her hand, Sonia silenced Hinagiku before she could insist further. The fake sister reached for the oil lamp between them and brought it closer to herself. The glow fell on her clothes – a tightly fitting turtleneck and a pair of trousers. Wordlessly, Sonia took off the turtleneck and threw it to the floor. Goose bumps covered her skin, but she showed no other reaction to the cold. With near-mechanical motions, Sonia went on to take off her white shirt. As the garment fell to the floor, revealing more of Sonia's skin, Hinagiku couldn't stop her eyes form widening in surprise.

Considering the local climate, Sonia's skin was unusually pale. Her wiry frame provided no hint of the incredible strength Hinagiku knew she was hiding. With her skin covered in goose bumps, Sonia appeared fragile and weak.

But Hinagiku had lost the presence of mind to dwell on such details. Her eyes were glued to the purplish snake that seemed to stretch the entire length of the woman's upper body – a badly healed scar starting just below Sonia's collarbone and extending downward at an angle between her breasts and towards her abdomen. Although Sonia's bra served to hide this when she was fully clothed, Hinagiku now noticed that the sister's breasts were asymmetric, part of the left breast missing.

Hinagiku felt a shiver pass down her spine. Partly because she imagined why the wound had scarred so badly. Criminals for hire could not waltz into a public hospital and expect to receive treatment without explaining exactly how they sustained their wounds. On the other hand, underground doctors were always willing to sell out their patients if enough money exchanged hands, and offered no refuge from a hit man coming back to finish up his job. Sonia had probably treated the wound herself, or at best received amateur help.

But another thing which had Hinagiku flinching was that it was too easy to see it had been a hair's breadth difference which had determined that Sonia stay alive to this day.

Sonia stared into Hinagiku's eyes, telling the younger woman to stay away from the fire, lest she get burned. Hinagiku shook her head once to compose herself, but did not try to mask the effect the sight had on her.

"Even so," a weak smile appeared on her face, "this is something I must be prepared for."

Sonia snorted at this response and quickly threw her clothes back on.

"Well then," she began, as if finally convinced there was no calling the pink-haired girl back to her senses, "suppose I were to help you, what do I get in return?"

"First, a guarantee I keep quiet about your identity and whereabouts."

Contrary to the vulnerable expression on her face, Hinagiku spoke out in an easy, business-like tone.

"Second, a chance to put all of this," Hinagiku ran her eyes over the interior of Sonia's hideout, "behind you, if the Crow is the one not to survive our encounter."

"The odds are much better you'll lose your head and blurt out my information before they finish you off." It did not take one second for Sonia to shoot Hinagiku's offer down. But this was precisely what Hinagiku had expected, and she took it in stride.

"Third," Hinagiku finished off her count "you can consider this your revenge for the death of Tachibana Wataru."

In the next moment, Sonia was by Hinagiku's side, dagger held closely by the sitting girl's neck.

"Watch out that you do not speak those words too lightly," Sonia hissed out.

Hinagiku's expression did not change one bit from that weak, pained smile.

"I lost too much back there for that," she replied.

**X**

**XXX**

**X**

"–and so the princess and the dragon trained together for forty days and forty nights to overthrow the evil king," Miki unexpectedly finished her story. Fumi looked at her confusedly, tilting her head to the side.

"But wasn't the dragon evil, too?" the confused girl asked.

Miki chuckled.

"Yes, it was." Seeing the answer did not exactly help Fumi make heads or tails of the story, Miki shook her head. "Don't think about it too much, it's just a fairy tale, after all."

Miki stood up from her seat, walked around her desk and towards Fumi's working place. Seeing that the girl was still mulling over her previous words, Miki slapped a mask of mock-anger on her face. "There's work to be done!" Miki barked, grabbing the several sheets of paper Fumi had already looked over while they were talking and pointing for the girl to continue with her duties, "No time to waste on pointless things!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Fumi yelped and lowered her head over the papers.

Miki returned to her desk, flipping through the papers with Fumi's multicolored highlights on them. Transactions that happened too soon after one another, investments that could not possibly pay off, inexplicable similarities in the money flow of unrelated companies. Nine times out of ten, those things could be easily explained away as simple coincidence or human error. But once in ten times, they could not. That meant Fumi had a one out of ten ratio of stumbling upon lethal secrets. And Miki would have her stumble for twelve hours a day, bringing them ever closer to the descent of her pandemonium.

Soon, Hibino Fumi would destroy a world, and never even realize it.


End file.
